Unsinkable
by Rap541
Summary: The show started with the sinking of the Titanic. What if more of the Crawley family was on board the Titanic? I'm following more of a movie Titanic storyline than a historical retelling. Spoiler! The ship MAY hit an iceberg and some people MAY screw in a Renault! :D
1. Chapter 1

April 10, 1912

Mary knew why her mother was pulling her aside even as the older woman grabbed her arm. "Mama, don't start."

"Don't give me that tone," Cora Crawley shot back, a rare frown crossing her face. "It's a lovely day, and we're about to go on a lovely trip, on a luxurious ship. And you're acting like we're taking you to your death."

"Well, my life will be over once this trip ends," Mary shot back, although she was careful to keep her voice soft, so that her father and Patrick's father, James, couldn't hear. "Yes, it's a lovely ship by all reports, and visiting Grandmama at her estate in Rhode Island is lovely as well, but then we return and I am handed over to Cousin Patrick as his bride."

"We're not having this discussion again." Cora's eyes flashed angrily. "You accepted his proposal. You're twenty-two, Mary. The offers aren't going to get any better, and Patrick is an excellent match. You'll be a countess, by marrying Patrick, the estate will stay together." Cora turned around and looked at Patrick. "You could do worse. He's good looking, and he adores you, and you know each other. Why are you being so stubborn?"

Mary bit her tongue. She had agreed to the match, after all, and for all of the reasons her mother had just outlined. It wasn't, as an abstract idea, a bad marriage at all. Patrick, with his dark hair and green eyes, was handsome, young, and titled. That he was her second cousin was only a small problem. With his being her father's heir, the estate would be maintained and through her, her father's line would continue. And Patrick did like her, he said so often enough. "I know, Mama... I just wish there was more, I don't know... flair, with Patrick."

Cora sighed and took her hand. "I do understand, Mary. I didn't get to choose my husband at all, and I admit... I wished for more flair at the start, but I grew to love your father very much."

"Not everyone is as lucky as you and Papa," Mary retorted, but she wasn't up for a lengthy fight. The truth was very hard to argue. Patrick was in almost every way an excellent choice for husband. She just didn't feel any spark between them, and unlike her mother who married a stranger, she had known Patrick since they were small children... and she didn't think he had outgrown some of his flaws. The ridiculous, overly expensive trip to America, for example. It was a wedding gift, from Cousin James, an ocean voyage to America on a ship rumored to be more luxurious than the finest hotels. That was all about Cousin James's and Cousin Patrick's arrogance. Patrick especially liked to make a big show of how expensive the trip was and how exclusive. It was sad really, he sometimes acted like he didn't know that rich people didn't need to brag incessantly about the privilege of their lives.

He walked over to them, his face a bright smile. "Isn't it magnificent, Mary? They say it's unsinkable!"

It was like talking to a silly little boy in a man's body, she thought tiredly. That was the real problem. Patrick at twenty-seven still seemed as flighty as a schoolboy and she had a feeling that marriage wasn't going to change that. She forced herself to smile. "Oh Patrick, don't be silly, no ship is unsinkable."

He shook his head vigorously. "Lady Mary, you're the one being silly. This ship has water proof compartments!" He grinned and took her arm, leading her to the gangplank. "I know you haven't been thrilled with this trip, or with me, but I do hope the ship pleases you." He grinned impishly. "I do recall how fussy you were when we played house as children. I do want this trip to be a delight for you. For your parents and Lady Edith, and Lady Sybil as well of course, but especially you." He leaned in close. "I know we're just friends right now, and our marrying is something of a business proposal, but I must tell you, I was well pleased when Father suggested that I consider you as a wife."

And there was the second problem, Mary thought darkly as she allowed him to lead her up the gangplank to the ship. She had to be suggested to Patrick, and to Patrick, it was essentially a transaction. A convenient transaction, no doubt because he was her father's heir, and he didn't have to bother to make an effort to get to know her. He had visited Downton as a child and thought that she was still a child as well. Or, she thought with irritation, he thinks I'm simple minded because I'm a woman. Time to put paid to that, she thought as she stepped on the deck of the ship. "I just disagree that watertight compartments make a ship invincible. Papa and I were discussing the Titanic's design over dinner once we knew we'd be on the maiden voyage. The water tight compartments are really only effective with the ship being crashed into the specific compartment. If too many compartments fill up, the ship will sink." She had been surprised at how her father hadn't been taken in by the hype. At least, the hype about the unsinkable features. He was impressed that Cousin James had made such an extravagant wedding gift in the form of first class tickets on the maiden voyage of White Star's most luxurious liner.

"Mary, there's no reason to worry." Patrick's tone took on an edge of condescension. He led her over to her family. Her father and Cousin James were barking at the attentive stewards about their trunks while her two younger sisters were looking at the ship with wide eyed glee. Of course, for them it was just a fun trip to America, with the added bonus of being on such a fancy ship. Patrick likewise was taken with the rich surroundings but then his eyes lit up as he spotted another passenger step onto the deck. "Well, isn't that interesting?" He held up his hand and waved at the fellow. "Matthew! Come over and say hello!"

A friend from school, Mary suspected as the fellow walked over. Patrick tended to go on about his chums from Eton and the newcomer, in good traveling clothes, certainly had the look. But, she noticed as the man walked over, he looked a bit more suspicious than a true friend would look. Friendly, but wary. She wasn't surprised. She had attended enough parties and dinners with Patrick to know that he could be a wicked tease and he tended to pick at sore points as a sort of game.

The stranger joined them. "Patrick, I didn't know you were going to New York." The man was handsome, Mary realized with a start, tall, blond, and blue eyed. He was well dressed, his suit was expensive, and his accent was right, and yet just by Patrick's stance and amused look, she already suspected that the fellow was someone socially below them. Likely not a peer, she considered, although Patrick technically wasn't a peer and wouldn't be until her father died.

Patrick grinned. "I'm going to visit my fiancé's American family for the spring and summer, but I think the bigger question, Matthew, is what are you doing here? Weren't you toiling away at Oxford, reading law?"

Matthew smiled slightly. "I'm a solicitor now for Braxton and Campbell. Mr. Braxton was needed by one of our clients in New York City for a court case but took ill at the last minute. Since I was assisting him, I was chosen to go in his place."

"And so you lucked into a first class ticket, isn't that jolly good luck?" Patrick laughed.

Matthew nodded, although he didn't seem quite so amused. Then he looked at Mary, and his jaw dropped in surprise. For an instant, Mary was offended, and then she was amused. It was always fun to disarm a man so easily, and she realized that however well educated this Matthew might be, he was the sort that was befuddled by a pretty girl.

At least at first. He turned to Patrick. "Is this lovely woman your fiancé?"

"Not just my fiancé," Patrick chimed, "but family as well." He waved grandiosely at Mary. "Lady Mary Crawley, let me introduce you to your... what is it, third cousin twice removed I believe?"

"Once removed," Matthew corrected. He eyed Mary more carefully. "I'm Matthew Crawley, Esquire. You must be one of Lord Grantham's daughters. Patrick often mentioned his little cousins fondly when we were at Eton together."

Mary rather doubted that but had no chance to ask as Patrick slapped Matthew on the back. "Join us for dinner tonight, Matthew. You must have some evening attire worthy of this ship, especially since you're now serving such highly placed men."

Matthew nodded, but Mary sensed he was stung by Patrick's words. Not deeply stung, but annoyed. "Have one of the stewards send me the time. I'm sure it will be lovely." He tipped his hat to them both politely and made his way down the promenade deck.

"Isn't that lovely," Patrick breezed, "Cousin Matthew is a good chap. Your father will like talking to him, he was always terribly clever at everything."

Mary found herself full of questions as they joined her parents and sisters by their pile of steamer trunks. "I don't recall any Cousin Matthew in the lectures from Granny about the succession. I don't recall you mentioning him from school either."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "You don't remember my telling stories about poor little Church? Our distant cousin from Manchester who was a King's Scholar? Who the house master made wear my hand me down school clothes until the bloke out grew me?" He grinned. "I must say, I'm impressed with how well he's done for himself. I can remember catching poor little Church darning his own socks like a dirty street child. And I doubt Cousin Violet ever felt the need to mention him. The connection is fairly distant. Although I suppose if anything happened to me or Father, he might be more important..." He shook off the thought as quickly as it came, but Mary put it aside to ask about later. Granny wasn't coming on the trip but her mother did keep an eye on the potential male heirs. If something did happen to Patrick, it was unlikely that James would have another child to inherit, and her father would move down the list.

The nickname Church did remind her of Patrick's stories from school, and while she had no affection for the lower classes, she understood why Cousin Matthew had looked so wary. Patrick had been a year ahead of the poor cousin on scholarship and his stories usually involved making Church the butt of a joke, or forcing him to complete some silly schoolboy task that usually resulted in some humiliation. Matthew, she suspected, sounded successful in his work, and might not welcome the reminder of his schoolboy humiliations. "He sounds quite successful if he's being sent on an expensive trip by his employer. You always made Church sound like an ill mannered gutter child." She was curious, and suspicious. It hadn't escaped her that Patrick wasn't always especially honest when telling tales.

Patrick shrugged and smiled artlessly. "Matthew was always clever. Sometimes too clever. He wasn't poor in the truest sense but his father was a doctor. Died, as I recall, and the mother was a nurse so he had the birth but not the money. A nice chap, all things considered." He shook his head. "I suppose we were rough on Matthew as boys but you're right, it sounds like he's done well enough. Well enough to be up here in first class, even if it is by someone else's bad luck."

Mary considered the stories she remembered from childhood, and wondered.

0o0o0o0

Sybil slowed her steps and then ducked behind a pillar. She knew where their room was, if she got truly lost she knew she could just ask a steward to get her back where she needed to be. And sticking with the family as they toured around the ship was boring her to tears. It shouldn't be boring, that was the thing. She found the ship fascinating. Not just the fanciness of the Grand Stairwell, although she was suitably impressed with it and with their ornate suite of rooms.

No, what she really found interesting was the organization of the ship and the people aboard it. It didn't escape her notice that the ship's decks were rigidly aligned with passenger class. She, dressed in a fine frock, was smiled at by the ship's many stewards no matter whether she crossed from the first class promenade to the second, while the second class passengers got more of a firm look when they got too close to the entry to first. The third class deck space had a barrier as well, and she knew better than to try to cross the barrier into third class. She was seventeen, and dressed like the first class passenger she was, which meant if she did more than look over the railing at the young men from third class playing football on the deck, a steward would quickly intervene. She'd seen it happen already, to two girls who looked older than her. She was a rebel at times, but she had no wish to gain her father's attention by getting dragged back to their shipboard quarters by a tattling ship steward.

The young men were kicking the ball when one them was too exuberant and sent the ball over their heads and up to the deck Sybil was watching from. She picked up the ball and one of the young fellows waved at her. "Please, love, throw us the ball back!"

She smiled at him. He was good looking, young but perhaps a little bit older than her, with sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and a lilting Irish accent. "Only if you promise to score the next goal for me!" She tossed the ball to him, which he caught deftly.

"Who will I be dedicating the goal to?" He asked it with a flourish worthy of a courtier.

"I'm Lady Sybil Crawley," she called down. The young man bowed deeply and grinned and then the game resumed in earnest. Sure enough, her new admirer took on the other men and after a bit of robust play, scored the next goal. She cheered wildly, and just then the ocean wind blew her gaily decorated hat off her head and down into the swirling mass of football players. The friendly fellow from before grabbed the hat and jogged to the stairwell that led to the second class deck. How clever, Sybil thought as she went to the gate, I can get his name. She frowned at the steward who was already trying to shoo the fellow away. "Let the fellow return my hat like the gentleman he's being, and let me thank him properly."

The steward frowned. "Yes, milady," he muttered, his accent a thick muddle.

She took the hat through the gate. "I didn't get your name," she prompted.

He grinned. "Tom Branson, milady."

"Well, thank you, Mr. Branson, for rescuing my hat." She struggled to find something else to say. "Why are you traveling to America?"

He shrugged. "My family decided to emigrate. I had a good job as a chauffeur for a rich English lady but everyone else was struggling. Some cousins in Boston bought our tickets. I suppose it will be good for us, but I'll admit to not being taken with the idea."

She felt a wave of sympathy for him. "I didn't want to come either. This is a trip to celebrate my sister's engagement to my father's heir, but Patrick is a twit and a bully at heart, and my sister is miserable." Which made her mother miserable which upset her father even though he still hadn't realized that Mary wasn't happy about it.

Tom looked at her and then at the steward, who was still watching them. In a low voice he said, "I have a nice suit of clothes, I could sneak up to the second class parlor tomorrow night if you could get free. If you want to talk, that is."

Sybil smiled. "It will need to be after dinner, but yes."

0o0o0o0

Matthew's white tie attire, Mary saw quickly as he joined them at the top of the grand stairwell, was brand new, and expensive. It was also well fitted, so with his blond hair and blue eyes, he cut a dashing figure. It was obvious that any number of young women, John Jacob Astor's new young wife included, were eying him. To his credit, he was blushing like an awkward schoolboy, which only made the circling single first class ladies more excited.

Patrick, of course, was amused at first and then off put by Matthew's presence. It was rare, Mary realized, for Patrick to have any competition at a family gathering. Which meant, once the formal introductions were made, that he was going to put Matthew in his place for daring to outshine him. Or at least try to.

"Well, that is certainly not one of my old suits," Patrick said cheerfully as they gathered and made their way to the dining area. "You've certainly stepped up in the world, Matthew, if you can afford a gentleman's tailor." He turned to James and Robert. "I'm sure you remember what a little ragamuffin Cousin Matthew used to look like?"

Matthew's smile didn't change but Mary could see his eyes tighten just a little. "Most of us mature as we get older, Patrick. We've both been out of short pants for some time."

Mary almost snickered, but didn't. Actually laughing would have Patrick in a snit all evening, even if he did deserve Matthew's gentle chiding. Matthew, to give him credit, was trying to deflect Patrick's not so subtle digs at his lesser social status without being blunt to the point of boorishness. "Cousin Matthew, you do seem quite mature. Perhaps you'll do me the honor of escorting me to our table?"

He nodded agreement, and Edith happily latched onto Patrick. More the pity, Mary thought and not for the first time, that Patrick never really seemed to notice that Edith adored him. What intrigued her, as the dinner progressed, was that Patrick was increasingly annoyed that his barbs about Matthew's background didn't seem to be landing anywhere. Matthew made no attempt to conceal or embellish his background as the son of a middle class doctor, or about the fact that he did indeed work as a lawyer. And Patrick didn't understand, Mary realized, that Robert was impressed with the distant cousin and his accomplishments. It was something Patrick was going to need to learn, she considered. Yes, by dint of being middle class and working as a lawyer, Matthew was ranked lower socially, but her father was either defusing or simply ignoring Patrick's more mean spirited digs.

"Do you work in estate law at all, Matthew?" Robert asked during a lull in the conversation. "It seems like every day something is changing."

"I have been building a client base." Matthew sipped his glass of wine. "But I'm sure you must have representation for such things, Lord Grantham."

"Oh, no need to be so formal, Matthew," Robert's tone was jovial. "You are family after all. Please call me Robert. And I do have representation but while he's a good chap, he's also close to retiring. If he had a son following him in the business, I wouldn't consider leaving him, but when he decides to retire, his firm will close. So, if Matthew is a solicitor and familiar with estate law, I'd rather have our business handled by family." He gave Patrick a friendly look. "These are the sort of things you'll need to consider when you're the Earl, Patrick. It's always a good idea to utilize family resources." Patrick rolled his eyes as Robert went on. "I admit, I didn't quite remember the family connection at first but then I recall hearing that you graduated summa cum laud at Oxford. That's excellent. It certainly looks like you've done well. Are you a partner yet?"

Matthew shook his head, his expression amused. "Not for a few years, I'm afraid, but things like taking on this case in New York certainly improves my chances. I've gone from being 'you lad' to 'young Crawley' already so it bodes well. As of late, my mother has been less concerned about my employment and more concerned about my social life." He blushed slightly at the various knowing looks he received. "She admonished me to not hide in the ship library and to have dinner with some lovely young ladies so I am glad to be able to tell her I did follow her advice." Mary was rather impressed. For someone who wasn't raised as a peer, he was doing a good job in complimenting the young women at the table as well as establishing to their father that he knew better than to chase after the man's daughters without permission.

"I'm afraid," Patrick said, his tone more congenial, "that you'll likely find yourself with many invites. It's a large ship, true, but you'll find that ladies of breeding like to sample different wares. You're quite the marvel to them, someone from the lower classes cleaned up and made presentable."

It was insulting, and Mary suspected her father was about to rebuke Patrick but then Matthew simply chuckled. "If all it takes is a good suit, then we should all be danced attendance to, but truth be told, if that's all that impresses the ladies, then I am likely better off hiding in the library."

"Well said," Mary laughed. She caught Patrick's irritation and began to suspect that the one being reduced to school boy status was Patrick, not Matthew. Why not encourage it, she thought. Patrick needed to learn some manners if nothing else. "I admit, I find that dinner has left me feeling a bit in need of some fresh air. Perhaps, as you're escorting me tonight, Cousin Matthew, you would be so kind as to take me to the promenade?"

Matthew rose almost immediately. "Of course, Lady Mary." She wasn't surprised that he was happy to leave. She was beginning to understand some of the issue between him and Patrick. A lot of it, she was certain, was that Matthew was far more intelligent and Patrick knew it. Add in the fact that Matthew was better looking, and she was probably doing Patrick a favor in removing Matthew from the circle of gentlemen. Some of the men at the large table who weren't family had been displeased at how unkind Patrick was being.

Matthew took her by the arm and led her out into the brisk night air. "I must thank you, Lady Mary, for giving me an excuse to depart early." He smiled at her as he led her to a railing to take in the night sky and ocean. "I'm afraid I've never really enjoyed formal occasions."

"I'm surprised," she said easily, "because you were handling yourself quite well against Patrick's not so subtle insults." She chuckled and after a moment, so did he.

"You are correct," he admitted, his grin lighting up his face in a way that she had to admit made him all the more handsome, like a naughty school boy sharing out a bit of fun. "I suppose I shouldn't press him so, it's certainly not hard to pin him to the ground in a fight."

A light went on in her head. "It's funny," Mary grabbed a hold of the railing, "what little I know about you is all from Patrick's stories of little Church, our distant cousin who was a King's Scholar. And most of his stories were… about mean spirited pranks he pulled against other little boys. I don't even know why he called you Church as a nickname, although my guess was that you were in the choir."

Matthew's face took on a more serious caste. "I was a choirboy, but that's not why he calls me Church."

"Then, why does he?" Mary waited until his silence grew annoying. "Oh, come now, how ribald of a story can it be that a mere woman can't hear it?"

"It's not that." He seemed to consider his words carefully. "You've mentioned that you and Patrick are to be married. It's the sort of tale that may not be complimentary."

She waved his objections away with a gloved hand. "Nonsense. Patrick and I will be formally engaged upon our return from America but this is not a love match. I assure you, I am well acquainted with Patrick's flaws."

"And as a highborn woman, a lady, you may even agree with his views," Matthew added. "He calls me Church because when he found out I was a scholarship student, and worse, actual family, he told everyone I was as poor as a church mouse. Poor little Church, as poor as a church mouse, who was so poor he wore second hand uniforms and darned his own socks."

"Were you? So poor?" Her own prejudice was there, she couldn't deny it, but she also recalled Patrick's tendency to exaggerate.

Matthew shrugged and looked out over the water. "We were never rich in the way you and Patrick are rich, but we didn't spend nights at the workhouse either. We had a nice house, there was a maid and a cook while my father was alive. There was never any question that I would have schooling, but my father wanted me to go to Eton the way he did, as a scholar. And then he died in my first year and that made things… more difficult. My mother went back to work as a nurse to make sure the house was maintained and that there would be money for university for me. She worked and struggled for me so when the headmaster suggested saving my mother more than a few pounds by my using Patrick's old school clothes...I accepted it despite knowing how I would be mocked. Because it made things easier for my mother. No, we weren't poor. We didn't live on a lavish estate but I had every necessity and more than a few treats. Even now, Patrick makes it sound like I went home from school and worked in the coal mines." He was clearly trying to not sound angry.

"When did you pin him to the ground?" She smirked at his surprise. "Oh, come on. He's obviously smarting about something. God knows he can't be upset that you outdid him in actual school subjects. Trust me, I remember Cousin James regaling us with how he was arguing constantly with the headmaster over how poorly Patrick did in maths and Latin and well… all subjects really."

Matthew nodded but she sensed she hadn't entirely set him at ease. "I made captain of the cricket team. Patrick expected to get it because he was ahead of me and when he didn't make captain, we fought. And I won, and the teacher in charge of the team made him shake my hand and call me the winner, and apologize." He sniffed. "I won't lie, it felt lovely to blacken his eye and teach him a lesson."

Mary found herself more depressed than amused. "That's not the story he told about the cricket team… but frankly, its not a surprise."

"You're not in love with him." He said it as a fact. It was forward but she decided not to bristle at him. It was rare for anyone to listen to her objections to Patrick, and she suspected the distant cousin was a kindred spirit when it came to Patrick.

"No, I'm not." She eyed Matthew, wondering how much he really understood. "If my father had a son, it would matter less who I married, but he didn't. So, Patrick will inherit the estate and the title and the money and by marrying him, my father's grandson at least will have the title."

"And Patrick is agreeable because you would be a wife that suits his own idea of his status," Matthew muttered. "This isn't medieval times. You can't be dragged to the altar." He hesitated. "If you're worried that refusing would leave you cast out, then consider that you do have family that doesn't approve of forced marriage."

It was sweet, she realized. His concern was genuine, and she wondered if he realized how he was putting his heart out on his sleeve. Best to dash it, she told herself firmly, he's sweet and I'd like to know him better, but I am to marry Patrick and there's little chance this cousin could even pass muster. "It's not that… that blunt. If I had fallen in love with a suitor, then my parents would have been well pleased and Edith would get her wish to be shoved at Patrick. But I didn't fall in love with anyone suitable, and now I am twenty two, and not seventeen and the estate needs to be managed." She sighed and looked out over the railing at the dark waves of water. "I'm probably making more fuss than I should. It's not the worst match I could make. Mama was hinting that I should consider a neighbor gentleman who is my father's age."

"I feel sorry for you." Matthew looked at her and then away. "I don't mean to be forward but… I might be the son of a doctor, as poor as a church mouse, all the things Patrick said, but my parents loved each other dearly and that's the sort of marriage I want for myself." He shook his head. "I couldn't be happy, standing at the altar, if I wasn't certain my bride wanted to be with me."

"Well, I'm sure your bride will be more than willing." Mary let her voice take on a cheery tone. "Patrick is right about one thing. You won't have any trouble meeting young ladies on this ship. I suspect they'll track you down in the library."

He smiled at her. "Really? I've been told quite often that I expect too much intellectual conversation from women."

"Yes, you'd put off the witless little things who will chase you because you're quite dashing to look at, but the cleverer women will like that you expect them to speak with you like an equal." She found herself blushing slightly. "I must admit, I quite like it. But you're also a surprising mix of innocence and charm. Coupled with your excellent work prospects, you should have no difficulty finding a woman to love such a man."

He sighed. "Alas, I suspect that the one woman I've met that I wish I could attract is determined to marry my second cousin as a part of a business deal." He smiled wistfully at her, and for an instant she felt more than just friendly affection. Why does he have to have such pretty eyes on top of everything else, she wondered. Then she forced it back down. He was sweet, and had a school boy crush and he had to be shied off for so many reasons. Even though she was suddenly intensely curious about him.

"See? There's that artless charm again." She made a point of chuckling. "Oh, Matthew, you're sweet to compliment me so, but the truth is that I would be a terrible wife to an up and coming solicitor. And you'd find me a trial, with my attachment to the upper class." She patted his arm reassuringly. "I've worried you with my troubles, and for a lawyer, you're really far too kind. I will marry Patrick, and perhaps I will be like my mother and fall in love with my husband after the fact. And you will find that woman that wants to be there at the alter with you, I am sure of that."

"Perhaps." He did seem to accept her gentle rejection, as she expected. It hadn't escaped her that suitors that ranked lower tended to use their manners more when rejected. He gave her a look, a look of concern. "But let's be friends at least, and get to know each other on this trip. You might find it helpful to have someone to talk to that isn't committed to seeing you marry Patrick, if nothing else."

"Then let's plan our excuses to see each other." She knew it was a bad idea, because she was encouraging his affection when the best plan for both of them was to step on it firmly and kill it, but the idea of seven days of Patrick and his dull views was a horror show. "For starters, you will dine with the family. I probably won't even need to suggest it to Papa, he likes you, and he finds Cousin James a dreadful stuffy bore."

"What does he think of Patrick?" Matthew's eyes lit up with amusement. "I shouldn't ask but…"

"He worries that Patrick views the estate the way a child views a cookie jar, that he can keep reaching in and grab a cookie, and that the cookies will never run out. He continues to hope that Patrick will mature and begin to realize that there's more to being the Earl than throwing parties." She waved away the topic. There was a point where it was just too easy to discuss Patrick's flaws. "Have you read Frankenstein? By Shelley?"

He looked at her quizzically. "Not recently. Have you? That's a bit of a… rough book for a lady."

"I'm quite strong of heart, and I've always wanted to discuss it with a well read man. We shall have some grand discussions, in the library, I think." It would be a welcome relief, and completely innocent. The flaw in the plan, she realized as Matthew smiled at her again, was that she suspected it would be quite easy to enjoy spending time with Matthew. I will just need to be firm, she told herself, and make sure he understands that we can only be friends. That way at least some portion of the dreadful trip will be entertaining.


	2. Chapter 2

"But the monster was a true innocent," Mary offered. She tapped the book. "Yes, his creation is unholy and monstrous but once born, it was Dr. Frankenstein's duty to deal with what he had done. I suspect you allow him to shirk his responsibilities because men always blame everyone but themselves when they've made a mess."

Matthew grinned at her. "You're judging me very harshly. I've never shirked a responsibility."

"I'm speaking about men, generally," Mary retorted. She gestured around the Second Class Reading Library, where various men and women, were enjoying a quiet afternoon of reading. "For example, who is at fault when a young woman finds herself unmarried and with child?"

"The woman who lost her virtue," he agreed, "and more unfairly, the child that results."

She smiled, well pleased that he was challenging her. One nice thing she had already noticed about Matthew was that while he was polite and circumspect, he wasn't against being disagreed with, and she rather had the sense he was interested in her argument. "Correct. And not the man who took her virtue. He gets to walk away from the mess he's made and who suffers in the end? The woman, who isn't blameless but who certainly didn't get with child on her own, and the child itself, who is innocent of any crime. This Victor Frankenstein is an even worse cad. He brought a life into the world and abandoned it with nothing. Is it any wonder that the poor ugly brute was angry with being cast out?"

"The woman makes a fair point," an older man sitting near them chimed. "Perhaps this awful monster – a monster that was clearly clever, might have not been so murderous if Frankenstein had been a responsible father."

"I must agree, it's a very fair point," Matthew said easily. "I suppose my counter to that is that while I sympathize with the creature's plight, he was indeed an intelligent person with the wit to know right from wrong. There are many among us who come from less than perfect backgrounds who manage to develop morals and a sense of decency." He smiled as he waited for her response.

The older man that had broken in before nodded as well. "He makes a fair point, miss."

Before Mary could answer, a woman seated in one of the lounge chairs piped up. "The girl's point is still valid. Raise up a child the way you mean them to go. Not everyone gets a perfect child at birth, I suspect if we all look to our childhoods, we can all recall needing to be corrected firmly at times. That's why we pity orphans, they have no mothers or fathers to teach them and love them. This Frankenstein made a child, an ungodly child perhaps, but it was his duty to raise it to act decently or to destroy it, and he did neither. The death of his brother and his wife is on his head, not the creature's."

"Well said!" Mary agreed, laughing with pleasure. Soon enough, there was a rousing discussion of the book and current events. It was, she realized as the stewards refreshed their drinks of coffee and tea for the third time, a delightful way to spend the afternoon. She was surprised, when introductions were made, at how well born so many of the second class passengers were. She was the only one with a title but there were a number of men and women whose families she knew and the ones that weren't related to peers were people like Matthew, educated professionals or businessmen, women who were well read and not so different from her.

The older fellow who had started the large roundabout discussion clapped Matthew on the back. "I didn't expect to have such a delightful intelligent conversation with the younger generation, thank you. Will the two of you join my wife and I for dinner tonight. We've already found several couples who enjoy a good conversation."

"Oh, do come," the young woman at the table who had since been introduced as Ms. Helen Bull, a recent graduate of Cambridge who was planning to attend Harvard University for an advanced degree in literature. She pointedly included Mary with a gesture. "I know you're both meant to dine in the First Class dining room, but ours really is quite charming. As nice as the First Class dining on any number of other ships. And you've been such a treat to talk to. I admit, I always had the prejudice that the daughters of the peerage weren't encouraged to know much beyond their social ties and you've nicely scotched that point. It would be lovely to have you both."

Matthew cocked his head and looked at her with amusement. "I certainly had no other offers, and was likely to end up as a mystery man at some desperate young debutante's table, but it occurs to me that Patrick might expect you to join him."

"I suspect he will," Mary agreed, feeling some disappointment.

"Speak of the devil," Matthew pointed to the library's entrance. Sure enough, Patrick was striding through, looking somewhat annoyed. He gave Matthew a dark look before he turned his attention to Mary.

"Mary, when you said you were going to the library, I thought you were going to the First Class Reading Library. And frankly, I thought you'd be returning once you'd found the book you wanted to read." He managed to look cross and put out and faintly disgusted by the entire situation.

"Patrick, did you have something planned? Other than enjoying the ship gymnasium, which we can't enjoy together?" Mary found her temper rising. He had no reason to be annoyed, he'd made his own plans to spend the afternoon amusing himself well known. "As it happens the library in First Class didn't have the book Cousin Matthew and I wanted to discuss."

"Why am I not surprised?" Patrick picked up the library book from the small end table. "Frankenstein… Really, Mary, is this even literature?"

It rankled her. She accepted that they were to be married and that there were any number of advantages to it, but in a flash of insight, she understood why they would always be at odds. It wasn't just that she was smarter than Patrick, it was that he was always going to find a reason to belittle her since he was a man and she was a woman. Patrick was like his father; a snob and certain no woman could be his equal. It occurred to her suddenly that he probably had never read the book, and likely hadn't read a book at all since his schooling had finished. He went to shooting parties and hunting parties, one relief she had consoled herself over when it was clear they were likely to marry was that Patrick at least enjoyed being social, but now she realized that he was likely to want it on his terms. His wife on his arm, agreeing with whatever silly opinion he had because it was her place. Her eyes narrowed.

"Don't take against it because it was too difficult a read for you to enjoy, Patrick," she said curtly. "As it happens, Cousin Matthew and I have been invited to dine with our new friends here. You're welcome to join us. In the Second Class Dining Room."

Patrick glared at her and then more harshly at Matthew. "Don't think," he said quietly to Matthew, "that you're going unnoticed, Church." He turned to Mary and smiled thinly, obviously angry. "As we are not yet married, I have no say in how you choose to spend your time, Lady Mary. As it happens, I have an invitation from some gentlemen for dinner, so I thought you'd enjoy an evening with the other young ladies in First Class. If you wish to lower yourself to Cousin Matthew's more typical level, that is your choice and pleasure." His eyes took on an intent line. "Things will be different when we are married, of course."

"Yes," Mary agreed, "but currently we are not. Since we now know each other's plans for the evening, is there anything else keeping you here?" She didn't normally take a stand over people who were beneath her, but their companions in the reading library had been welcoming and interesting. And while she wasn't her sister Sybil, who often railed about the plight of the lower classes, Mary didn't see the point in grinding it home to people that they were beneath her. Besides, if listening to Sybil's endless social commentary had taught her anything, it was that the servants were often quite bright and knew more than they often let on, and just lacked the opportunity for schooling.

Patrick cocked his head. "I suppose not." With that he stalked out of the room. Everyone she had been conversing with had the good manners to look away and let her collect herself as she returned to her seat next to Matthew. He gave her a concerned look as the chatter turned to the plans for the evening.

"You know, Lady Mary," Matthew shifted awkwardly as he spoke, "I don't mind having a bit of fun getting Patrick to rise to an argument but my reality is different than yours."

"Pray tell, what does that mysterious comment mean?" She kept her tone light but she did sense that he was concerned.

His blue eyes stared into hers. "My reality is that after this pleasant cruise to New York City, I will take my leave and likely never see Patrick again in my life. Wait, I might see him thirty or so years from now, because your father seems the sort to make good on his idea to request I take over his legal matters when his current lawyer retires, so when he passes on, Patrick will likely demand I present myself so that I can be fired by him personally."

"I admit, you've assessed my father's character and Patrick's quite well," Mary agreed, allowed a smile to return to her face, "but I still don't see your point."

He sighed. "Your reality is that you will be spending the spring and summer with him in America, and you will return to England and marry him. No doubt in a lovely, lavish ceremony with friends and family… Although I suspect my name won't be on the guest list, all things considered."

"Trust me, if it will irk Patrick, I will insist you be there." They both laughed but she could see that she hadn't eased his concern at all. "I think I understand your concern and you shouldn't worry. I can handle Patrick."

"You can handle Patrick now," Matthew replied, his expression growing more serious. "You're an unmarried lady. There are rules governing how he behaves. If you were his wife this afternoon, by right of marriage, he'd be allowed to drag you out of here, chastise you publicly like a child for not minding his orders and even strike you if he wished, and people might find it gauche if he was too loud or too violent, but it would be his right. Because once you're married, you are under his authority. I get to walk away, so I have a certain amount of freedom in giving it back to Patrick when he teases and torments. There's literally nothing he can do to me except deny me his business, and I will be very honest when I say that estate management is a very small part of what I do. If this situation in New York goes as planned, I will be richly rewarded to where no child of mine will ever need to wear used school uniforms." He hesitated. "I don't mean to offend with the talk of money. I've grown up knowing that I'm listed in Burkes and that I have relatives in the peerage. I've also been taught that I will need to earn my way, and that there's no shame in working, and making money. Your predicament tells me that my parents were right to raise me the way they did."

"Does it?" She felt her temper flaring but was careful to not reveal it. He was trying to give her advice, advice that she did see the sense of, and people who weren't in the peerage did hold different views.

"You'll be marrying Patrick because it keeps your father's money with his direct family. Patrick, instead of choosing his own bride, has to choose you if he wants wealth. But he and I have had very similar opportunities." Matthew shrugged. "I'm cleverer, I don't think I'm saying anything that isn't obvious, but Patrick isn't without ability. He's just never required to do any work for anything he wants, so he doesn't value it. That's why your father is worried about him assuming control of your estate, and that's why so many estates are beginning to crumble. It will only get worse as more and more young noble men are raised to disdain the very act of earning money. But now I am veering from my original concern." He took her hand and held it gently. "I don't want to cause you trouble in your marriage, or to find out later that Patrick made things difficult for you because I encouraged you to tease him."

It really was a shame he was at heart a middle class lawyer, Mary thought as she gripped his hand, he has the manners of a true gentleman and a certain sweetness that couldn't be denied. She was glad to be able to reassure him. "I do appreciate the concern, but if Patrick is to marry me, then he needs to get used to the notion that I am not just an object he takes to dinner parties. And when we marry, Patrick will be moving to Downton Abbey so that he can better learn how to manage the estate. That also means he will be living under the watchful eye of my parents. Papa is, in his way, remarkably open handed with the many females of his family. He won't allow Patrick to be unkind." Of course, a small voice chimed in her head, that was all well and good for now but once her father passed, Patrick would rule the family. "I will endeavor to be less blunt to Patrick when he is being foolish."

"If you decide to attend dinner with him tonight, I understand, and I can make your apologies," Matthew said easily.

"Nonsense. That would be rude of me, particularly after Patrick made such a scene. Besides, I had quite a lot of fun and would like it to continue." Heavens knew that the conversation was likely to be better, at the very least.


	3. Chapter 3

The Second Class Dining Room was as charming as promised. Matthew was pleased by that, and by the reality that any number of the people they dined with were found eminently acceptable by Mary. He wasn't going to cure her of being a snob in just a few days, he could tell that already, but he was hoping to at least exert a good influence.

He liked her, that was the problem. He hadn't been entirely joking the night before when he told the table his mother was expecting him to make an effort to find a wife. He was, he had to admit, at the right age and at the right place in his career to consider it. The problem was that right at the point in his life where it was finally time to consider taking a wife, he had run across a woman that suited his tastes and who challenged him, and of course she was already engaged to be married. Worse, she was engaged to Patrick Crawley, a man that in his opinion, embodied all the flaws of the aristocracy. In school, Patrick had derided him as poor when Matthew knew very well that he was quite well off compared to real street waifs. Patrick looked down on anyone who wasn't as highly born or as likely to inherit as much as him. He also despised anyone that showed him up, that ruined the mental image he had of himself as the smartest and best at everything. Long before the cruise on the Titanic, Matthew had often mused that Patrick was lucky indeed that Lord Grantham wasn't so bent on producing his own son because Patrick was planning his entire life around the notion of inheriting an earldom.

Matthew was just hoping to provide his companion with some fond memories and the idea in her head that she did have choices. She wasn't being forced in the truest sense to marry Patrick, but he was well versed in the societal pressures she was facing. If anything happened to Patrick, he'd be facing those pressures himself. Mary Crawley as a woman of noble birth had to marry. Matthew understood the societal vice grip she was caught in, but he did believe her when she told him that if she'd found a suitor she loved, that her parents would have been well pleased and allowed it. The problem was that marrying Patrick made good practical sense, if one was a peer. She would eventually become a countess, her children would be titled, and frankly after years of listening to Patrick brag, Matthew had to assume the peerage Crawleys had money. Mary didn't have to say it aloud for him to know that having money and status was important to her, he was just hoping to show her that life among the not so highly born wasn't as squalid as she thought. The middle class was rising, and one reason he was focusing on corporate law and not estate management was that he could see where the future was heading.

As they made their way to the parlor, for the after dinner conversation, took two glasses of wine from one of the waiting stewards and handed one to her. Then he led her to one of the many small seating areas. "Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Mary?"

She smiled and sipped the wine. "I am, I must admit. Patrick will have another reason to dislike you, as I shall be regaling him with what a charming companion you are. And I had no idea that the Second Class passengers were as gossipy as clucky hens. Why, I had not even heard the story of the First Class girl who was so distraught over her arranged marriage that she almost jumped over the railing, only to be saved by a handsome American lad in Third Class?" She laughed. "Does that even begin to sound true to you?"

After a moment, he chuckled. "It sounds far more romantic than plausible. I admit to not having cruised across the ocean before but I suspect such stories are common, tempests in a tea pot, so to speak."

"Fair enough but rumor has it her family has invited the fellow to dine with them tomorrow so we shall need to keep watch." She set down the glass and patted his knee. "I must thank you, Cousin Matthew. You have been very kind today, keeping me company and showing me that things aren't so dismal out among the common people."

"I thought I was subtler than that," he admitted.

"You were. You just forget that I am much cleverer than Patrick." She smiled kindly. "You've given me much to think about, about how I will handle my marriage and how I will manage Patrick. To begin with, he will need to understand what I consider my place to be as his wife, and if he is unhappy with that, then perhaps he should consider another bride. When I marry, I intend to have opinions about books and people that he may not share, as surely as he will have opinions that I don't share. We will need to respect each other if we are to be husband and wife and he needs to know what I expect of him. I've allowed him to have his way, thinking it better not to argue before the wedding but I see now that he sees that as consent to his views." Her eyes sparkled. "That will change. It began today, and it will continue so that when we return from America, he will know what our life together will be like. For example, I intend that you will join the family for dinner tomorrow, so we can best see if this tale of the third class boy and first class girl is true. But I must also spend tomorrow with Patrick because you were right, earlier. It's amusing to rile him but it would have been wiser to not take such delight in it." She sighed. "I've not given him a chance to please me, I think. Your kindness today and yesterday has been a lesson for me, I hope you know that."

"I thank you, Lady Mary," he said, feeling no small amount of regret, "but I must admit that my intent was not to convince you to do your duty but to see that there were other choices you could make."

"I know," she said as she rose to her feet, "and if I wasn't already engaged, I might wish for more than friendship between us, but it must be friendship only."

He rose as well. It wasn't a surprise, not really, except that he'd never felt such disappointment before. "If it is only to be friendship between us, then know that I cherish my friends highly and count you among them, Lady Mary."

"And I count you among mine as well," Mary said, "But it is late, and I must take my leave. And if I followed all the conversation as well as I thought, I believe Mr. Upton invited you to the smoking lounge for cards. I mustn't keep you. Good night, Cousin Matthew."

"Good night, Lady Mary." He watched her depart, conceding that as much as she flattened him like a bug, she had done it with a certain kindness that he suspected would be lost on her future husband. I tried, he told himself, I tried and if I failed, at least she is now a friend and knows that she will need to take the lead with Patrick. It wasn't much to console himself with, but Upton had also mentioned that the smoking lounge had a fine collection of liquors so he made his way there.

Much to his surprise, when he entered the Second Class Smoking Lounge, he saw young Lady Sybil there, sitting with a young man, laughing gaily at whatever the fellow was saying. Well, he pondered, how do I handle this? He was certain Lord Grantham had no idea his youngest daughter was hobnobbing with the Second Class men, and a closer look at the fellow made him wonder. The clothes were right, but edging towards old fashioned, not quite threadbare or tattered. He'd worn worse as a youngster, and he knew what second hand cast offs looked like. Best to put an end to it, he thought as Sybil suddenly spotted him. He walked over to them and put a pleasant smile on his face. "Lady Sybil, I didn't know you were meeting anyone tonight. I thought you'd be dining with your parents."

The girl gulped nervously. "Yes, well… Mr. Branson and I met on the promenade today and then saw each other this evening… so we decided to talk here… with all of these other people…" She looked at him expectantly.

"Yes, the Second Class Smoking Lounge is well chaperoned," Matthew agreed pleasantly. She's a rebel, he realized, but not wild and not willing to do more than buck convention. The young fellow had the same look, which meant giving them both a good scare was most likely enough. "Still, it is late for such a young girl. Perhaps, it's time you went back to your cabin? Lady Mary is on her way as well." Which means, he thought with no small amount of amusement, if you rush back, she might not catch you.

Lady Sybil wasn't so amused, but she understood his point. "Yes, yes, I suppose I should go… Tom… Mr. Branson, thank you for a lovely conversation."

The young fellow rose, as Matthew did as well, as Sybil left. Younger than I, Matthew realized, about nineteen or twenty, and his stammered good byes to Sybil came with an Irish accent. He clearly understood he was in trouble, but Matthew was in no mood to be harsh. "Please take a seat and join me for a drink, Mr. Branson."

Branson nodded nervously but didn't speak until the steward gave them their drinks, ironically a pleasant Irish whisky Matthew was fond of. "Nothing untoward happened," Branson said softly. "We met on the deck and thought it would be a lark to… meet in the middle so to speak, but I was respectful and took no advantage. I promise."

Matthew nodded. It sounded like the truth, two youngsters on a bit of a lark, not realizing until it was too late just how much trouble they'd both be in if they were caught. He took a guess. "You're emigrating?"

After a moment, the younger man nodded, his expression careful. "I didn't want to but my family is set on it."

"I've heard good things about America." Matthew gave Branson a stern look. "If you get in trouble on the ship, that can make things difficult when you're going through immigration." He held up his hand to ward off the man's protest. "I have no interest in making trouble for either of you. I think this is exactly as you described, and Lady Sybil is as much as fault as you are. But… she said your name was Tom?" He waited until the fellow nodded. "Tom, I think you understand that she might get chastised by her father, and you will be thrown in the brig no matter how innocent your intentions are. She's sixteen and the daughter of an earl."

"I know she's sixteen, she told me that and I told her we could only meet in public." Tom was defensive and angry. "I'm not a cad. We just wanted to get to know each other. And it shouldn't matter, that she's the daughter of an earl."

"It shouldn't," Matthew agreed, "but it does. I don't pretend to know Lord Grantham well, but he would take a much harder approach to what happened here tonight."

"You're… you're not going to report me?" Tom looked suddenly relieved.

"I'm not, because you seem an honest chap, and I don't think this was anything more than two young people letting things get out of control. But let me give you a very stern warning. This would have ended much differently if any other member of Sybil's family caught the two of you. Don't let there be a next time."

He hoped the poor fellow took heed.


	4. Chapter 4

April 14, 1912

"Mary, I'd like a word with you."

Her father was using his firm but patient tone, which meant he was bothered by something but not angry. His expression reflected that as well as his eyes flicked over to her two sisters. "Why don't you two join your mother in her sitting room? We're about to head to dinner."

Mary waited for Sybil and Edith to leave before she took a seat on the small sofa in their room. "Is it quite serious, Papa?"

"Perhaps." He seemed to struggle with his thoughts. Finally, he blurted it out. "If you don't want to marry Patrick, then don't. You know that I would never force you to marry a man you didn't want to marry. If you're not pleased with the arrangement, if you dislike Patrick, then say so."

"I'm not pleased with the arrangement," Mary admitted after a moment of consideration, "but I understand why it's necessary and I don't dislike or hate Patrick."

"Then why have you spent the last two days arguing with him?" Robert shot back. "You've disagreed with him at every opportunity, and over things that I can't believe even bother you. Cousin James is worried that you've decided against Patrick."

"Patrick needs to know what sort of wife I will be, Papa." Mary said it carefully. She wanted to be clear, in her own mind, about what she was trying to do. "I may not love Patrick, but if I have to marry him, then I refuse to be a nothing in his life, a pretty little prop that he brings out for show when he's required to display his wife. A marriage is a partnership. You and Mama taught me that. Patrick needs to know who he is going to marry, because he needs to be as relatively happy with his decision as well as I. I will stand behind a husband if I respect him and in return, I will expect that same respect. Patrick and I may not share the same tastes or interests, but I am willing to respect his preferences. We've been arguing because he's unwilling to respect any of my views or interests and dismisses anything I say as the prattle of a woman. I could be a help to him when he becomes the earl. I know the estate as well as you do, and I know the tenants and land like the back of my hand, but every time I mention it, he dismisses my words and ideas with a hand wave and how I shouldn't worry about it. But I am worried." She took in her father's expression and made a guess. "And you're worried. About how Patrick will handle being earl."

Robert sighed. "Yes," he said quietly. "Patrick just sees Downton as a personal playground. As lovely as this cruise has been, I'm profoundly grateful it is Cousin James who is paying for this trip. Patrick doesn't understand that money needs to accumulate, to be held in reserve for when things are bad. And when I try to engage him on the topic he talks about investments he thinks I should make, investments that sound foolish."

"Then understand that I am not simply being contrary to Patrick." Mary found herself warming to the topic. "He needs to know who he is marrying, Papa. If he wants a pretty and silly little thing who hangs on his arm and agrees with his every utterance, then perhaps he should go find himself a wife instead of passively allowing himself to be wed for the family's convenience." She supposed that was the real source of her irritation. "He literally doesn't care who he marries to where he doesn't even bother to look. I could be any acceptable young woman." Mary supposed that was what hurt the most. It wasn't as though she hadn't been pursued at all, there had been suitors, but none that she really saw a future with. Except, oddly, for Cousin Matthew. It certainly wasn't something she was going to discuss with her father but the last two days, as she increased her efforts with Patrick, she found herself having the odd fantasy of what life would be like with Matthew. Certainly, he wouldn't be as wealthy, they wouldn't live in a manor house, but he was a successful lawyer. If his mother had struggled after his father's death, she had managed to keep their home. Matthew could afford servants and was contemplating buying his own home. He wasn't incredibly wealthy, but neither was he incredibly poor and she had considered what life would be like with a such a man, and the truth was that it wasn't a horror show.

Matthew, she realized suddenly, cared deeply about who he would marry, which made her all the more intrigued. He was going to make a wonderful husband to some lucky woman, she thought, and it shouldn't irritate me but it does. "I don't need to be in love, Papa, but he'd be as happy with Edith or Sybil or frankly any reasonably pretty highborn girl. If we won't be in love, then I at least expect to have his respect. If he can't manage that… then perhaps we shouldn't be married." Her forcefulness surprised her. Yet saying it out loud to her father made it all too real, that in a matter of months, she would pass from her father's hand to Patrick's, and Patrick was a much different, and lesser man, and it frightened her. Matthew's point to her two days earlier hadn't been lost on her. "Patrick will have all rights over me once we marry. Who I see, who I talk to, what I read. He said to me the other day that things will be different when we are married."

Robert sighed again. "We haven't announced this engagement. The banns haven't been read. Perhaps it's a good thing we're off to America." He looked deeply into her eyes. "You do not have to marry Patrick, Mary. I admit, it's ideal for the estate, but Patrick will inherit whether he marries you or not. For now, this will remain between us, but if you're still feel this way when we return to England, I will refuse permission. I will also see to it that we keep this quiet. I don't want to embarrass Patrick any more than I need to. This isn't entirely his fault, after all. We must be kind."

"Of course, Papa." Yet suddenly it was as though the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders.

0o0o0o0

Something was different, Matthew realized as the waiter set down the extravagant dessert in front of him. He didn't know his cousins well, but after a few dinners with them, he had an idea of how to judge the mood. Mary, for example, looked utterly radiant, as though she'd been handed a new lease on life. So did Edith. Edith in fact looked quite pleased to bat her eyes at Patrick, who she was seated next to. Patrick, for his part, was as oblivious as always to both young women, and to young Cousin Sybil who seemed distracted. More notably, Lord Grantham and Lady Grantham seemed somewhat at odds, with Lady Grantham looking upset, while Lord Grantham seemed tired but pleased. He wondered but didn't ask. He was family, everyone was quite generous on that point, but he wasn't close family. As diverting as Lady Sybil's adventure in meeting a young man from the Third Class was, Matthew had no doubt that not only would Sybil be taken to task, he'd be in trouble for not bringing it to Lord Grantham's attention. And he likely should have, with more of a sense of the man, he realized Lord Grantham wouldn't have demanded the young fellow be punished, just kept away from his daughter. Robert was a surprisingly open minded fellow.

The dessert was as usual, marvelous and rich, and it helped him ignore the rather boring talk. No one at his table seemed able to pin down exactly who the suicidal girl that was saved by the third class American lad, but it continued to be the talk of the table. That, and the suddenly cold weather, which apparently made the various deck activities too onerous. He'd noticed the chill, but had hardly left his room except for meals that day. A long day at sea seemed a good time to refresh himself on the court case he was to take on in New York. Still, as yet another fellow droned on about the cold, he couldn't help but notice Lady Mary roll her eyes and wink at him. He dared a smile in return. The day before, she had rather pointedly directed her attention at Patrick, who at first seemed pleased and then annoyed that his fiancé expected him to pay attention to her. Matthew had been ensconced in his room reading all day, but he suspected by her look and by Patrick's rather loud statement that he was planning to play cards in the First Class Smoking Lounge, that they were quite tired of each other.

"I thought I'd enjoy the band in the reception area," Mary said brightly, once Patrick was finished. "The ship has a jolly band… Edith, Sybil, why don't you join me? Cousin Matthew, I seem to recall you mentioning how you enjoy music. Why don't you join us?"

"That would be lovely," he agreed, although he wondered what sort of game she was playing with him. He accepted being spurned, he even understood her reasons, so he was uncertain why she was encouraging him to spend time with her. On the other hand, he had spent the whole day working, and deserved some fun. There wasn't any reason to say no, and he knew he'd enjoy it. In minutes he was escorting all three ladies to the reception area where the band was indeed playing some merry dance music.

Mary gave Edith and Sybil a friendly smile. "I got the two of you out from under Papa's thumb, so go have fun. Don't stay too late, Papa will be checking on us all before he goes to bed. Cousin Matthew and I are going to dance." Then she pulled him onto the dance floor, and began spinning around for him, smiling with pleasure.

"I see you did want to dance," he said as he spun her about, "but I am surprised you didn't insist Patrick escort you. I thought you were giving him a chance."

"I did," Mary laughed, "and I think I made him miserable. But I have to thank you, Matthew. You were right, Patrick and I will be a disaster. He's not entirely at fault, I'm hardly a saint, but he wants something that I can not be. And I want something that he has no interest in being. Papa noticed and we talked, and he has told me that if my opinion of Patrick doesn't change by the time we return to England, he will deny Patrick permission to marry me." She smiled. "Apparently my happiness is more important to Papa than his grandson being the Earl of Grantham. He did chide me to make an effort with Patrick on our trip. He wants to spare Patrick some embarrassment."

"So, a difficult trip for you," Matthew mused as he twirled her about to the fast dance music, "since I assume making an effort is genuinely required." He didn't think Robert was a cruel man. It was certainly a terrible idea to tell Patrick his planned marriage was all but over before it started while on the cruise, and he had the impression that Lady Cora's American family lived a similar lifestyle of parties and dinners in their sheltered community.

Mary smiled slyly. "I suspect I might find myself more patient with him, now that I know it is no longer set in stone." In fact, she seemed lighter, more relaxed. Relieved. "Mama is angry with me, and with you as well." She snickered gleefully. "She thinks you've quite turned my head, with your dashing appearance."

"Have I?" he asked, in what he hoped was a flirtatious way. "Turned your head?"

She smiled mysteriously. "A bit, I think." As the music died off and the musicians readied for the next piece, she grasped his hand and pulled him to the door that led to the deck. "I'm too warm and so are you, let's cool off outside."

He wondered if she regretted it, because the small chill of the early evening was gone, replaced by a wintery, bone chilling cold. Much to his surprise, she went right to the railing, looking out over the ocean. "It's as flat as a glass mirror, tonight."

"It is," he agreed. Then he looked up at the ship lights and gestured so she would look as well. "Look at the ice crystals in the air, like cat whiskers around the lights."

"It's beautiful," Mary said, taking his arm. Then, her eyes narrowed. "Is that what I think? An iceberg?"

Matthew's eyes widened as he took in the sight. "I never supposed I'd see one but yes. Quite the marvel…" He couldn't help but feel disquieted at how the ship seemed to be heading right for it but he didn't want to upset Mary.

She was too busy frowning to notice. "I know they say this ship is unsinkable," she said, her irritation plain, "but must we ram into it? Why aren't we turning?"

He was thinking the same thing and then grabbed the railing to steady himself. "We are turning away from it," he reassured her. "It's just very slow…"

She clutched his arm worriedly as the ship began its torturous turn to the right. The berg loomed and she held him more tightly as a sort of rumbling under their feet made the deck unsteady. Chunks of ice fell onto the deck, thankfully none close to them, and crewmembers began dashing about.

"We actually hit the bloody thing," he marveled. Then Mary giggled.

"The unsinkable ship managed to hit a bloody iceberg on its maiden voyage! We'll be in the news, surely, Matthew." Then her face took on a more serious look. "You don't suppose it's serious, though?"

"I don't know," he admitted, "but perhaps I should escort you back to your room. It might be wise to check with the stewards as well." There was, he realized, no way to really know if the supposed water tight compartments would really work. "It might be best to be cautious," he added as more crew began to scurry about. He didn't want to admit to fear but they were in the North Atlantic in a ship that had just struck an iceberg. No ship is unsinkable, he reminded himself. "Come on, it's best we gather the family together and see what's going on."


	5. Chapter 5

Matthew thought it would be simple to gather Edith and Sybil and then take all three to their staterooms. Then they would roust Lord Grantham and his wife and explain the possibility of peril. He knew, from dinner chats, that Robert wasn't awestruck by the notion that the ship was unsinkable, and his wife Cora seemed sensible and likely to follow his lead. It might be true, that the water tight compartments would hold, or at least keep the ship afloat long enough for another liner to pick up the passengers, but it would be best if everyone was awake and ready for the crisis.

The problem was that while Edith was easily found, Sybil was nowhere to be found. He circled around the dance floor twice before rejoining Mary and Edith. "She's not here. Perhaps she went back to your stateroom?"

Edith shook her head. She gave Mary a chagrinned look. "I think… she was talking with some of the other young girls. About a dance. Below decks. You know how she is…"

Mary nodded, her irritation plain. "Of all the times she could choose to be a silly girl…" She turned to Matthew. "The rumor among the silly girls was that there was a dance planned down in the Third Class and that sort of thing is like catnip to Sybil. Take Edith to our room and get Mama and Papa rousted. I'll get Sybil." From the sounds of it, Sybil was going to get a piece of her mind as well, but before Matthew could stop her, she was gone, lost in the swirling crowd. He considered chasing after her but realized the stewards would turn her back soon enough. He took Edith by the hand. "Let's tell your father what's going on."

The hallways were bustling with stewards, stewards that were carrying the bulky life vests that the White Star Line had jokingly advertised as unnecessary. It made him quicken his steps. In mere minutes he was in the sitting room of the stateroom for Lord and Lady Grantham as Edith shook them out of bed.

Robert came out of the bedroom, wearing a bathrobe, and looking shaken. "What is this silliness Edith is babbling about, Matthew? An iceberg?"

"Yes," Matthew agreed. "The ship has hit an iceberg. The stewards are bringing round life vests and uncovering the lifeboats." A bit of a lie, he hadn't seen it himself but had heard two stewards shouting about it in the hallways. "It may just be a scare but…"

"Better safe than sorry," Robert agreed. "Although it's rather late but a little late night adventure won't hurt us. I assume it's still bitterly cold outside?" He eyed Edith as she stepped out of his bedroom. "Where is Mary and Sybil?"

There was no time to spare the child any punishment, Matthew decided. "Sybil slipped away from the dance and may have gone down to a gathering in the lower decks. Some sort of dance Mary went to fetch her before I could stop her. As soon as I know you and Lady Grantham are up and about, I intend to go below and get them both topside."

"I'll go with you," Robert nodded forcefully.

"No," Matthew replied, "you should stay up top with Lady Grantham and Lady Edith and the servants." An ugly thought came to him, a reminder of the talk in the library days earlier that had flowed from books to the nature of the ship's technology. He pulled Robert aside, not wanting to upset Edith or Cora. "I don't know if you noticed this," he said quietly, "but there are far more passengers than lifeboats, and it is serious enough that there were stewards running in the hallways with life jackets. I'll find Mary and Sybil. You should take the women here to the boats and see that they are safe."

Before Robert could respond, there was a flurry of knocks on the door and then Patrick and a harried looking steward rushed into the room. Both had an armful of the white life vests. "Sir," the red faced steward spat out, "the ship has struck an iceberg. It's just a precaution but the captain has requested that passengers get dressed and go to their assigned life boats with life vests."

"Father intends to continue playing cards," Patrick said cheerfully. "He says there's nothing to worry about and I quite agree but on a ship, we must obey the captain and all that. I believe we're assigned to Boat 1." He dismissed Matthew with a look, but his eyes widened as he looked about the room. "Where are the girls? Mary and Sybil?"

"Below decks," Matthew said as he helped Edith and their maid Anna get into the bulky life vests. Robert is going to escort the family and servants to the boat deck and I am going back down to fetch them."

"Well, aren't you a responsible escort?" Patrick sneered. "Go out with three and return with one. It's a good thing this is a ship and not a random street corner or else we'd never find them."

"Oh bloody hell, Patrick," Robert shot back, before Matthew could even think of a retort. He stepped away from Lady Cora, who was fussing with her life vest and pulled Patrick aside. "This," the older man hissed, "is possibly a false alarm. But it may not be, and we're in the middle of the ocean on a ship that has struck an iceberg. Now is the time to put your petty childish spat with Matthew aside. If you didn't trust him to watch Mary, Edith, and Sybil, then you should have volunteered to do so. Matthew is going below to find them. One of us has to go with the women here and see that they are safe. I'd prefer you help Matthew but if that means you'll spend your time bickering instead of finding the girls, I'll go."

Patrick shook his head, having the good grace to at least look chagrinned. "Of course, I will go with Cousin Matthew. I think you're over worried but you're right, better safe than sorry." He gave Matthew a conciliatory look. "I'm sure we can work together, and I am sure this is an example of Lady Mary and Lady Sybil being willful, yet again. Let's go, then."

Matthew followed him out the door and into the hallway. "They're young, not willful. I think Sybil met a boy the family won't approve of and Mary went to fetch her." He wasn't sure why he was defending Mary or Sybil. Sybil was wrong to go looking for a lad that she knew was unacceptable, and Mary shouldn't have run off to look for her but Patrick's remark irked him.

And his remark clearly irked Patrick, who stopped his brisk walk and turned to face Matthew, a frown on his face. "Do you ever shut up, Church? Do you need me to say it? That you've won? That you've effectively dashed my engagement before I even had a chance to impress her? And now I have to chase after her with you, on a fool's errand, all so she can growl at me and drape herself all over you?" He pointed his finger at Matthew. "The worst is knowing that you're going to walk down the plank when we get to New York and never see her again. I always knew you were petty and spiteful, I just never thought you'd go so far."

Matthew felt his own temper rise. He grabbed Patrick and began dragging him down the hallway, mindful that no matter how angry Patrick was making him, there was still a task at hand. He could see from the rapidly filling hallways that people were being roused from their beds, something a high end ship was loathe to do. "Mary seems like a woman who knows her own mind. If she has decided against you then at least be happy that you didn't marry a woman that didn't love you. And let me be very clear," and when he spoke, he grabbed Patrick by the lapels and slammed him into the hallway wall, "if Lady Mary has an interest in me, I will call on her, possibly even at her grandmother's well appointed Rhode Island estate this summer, if she chooses to invite me. We're not little boys any more, Patrick, and I am not subservient to you. Yes, you will be a lord, and I won't, and that distinction has been meaning less and less these last few years."

"Are you a revolutionary now?" Patrick sputtered, enraged.

"No. I just understand that the world is changing. Let me guess, you plan to spend your life living on that giant estate in York, and you'll always be wealthy and nothing will ever change? Well, it's already changing, Patrick. You may find before too long that the whole system of landed estates will collapse on itself. If Lady Mary prefers me to you, that didn't happen due to spite, I assure you of that, because quite frankly Patrick, you're not worth my time. Like I told Mary, at the end of this trip, I will likely never see you again. I assure you, I am not on this ship because of you at all. If Lady Mary has taken against you, then that's just an indicator that she has the good sense to not be trapped into marrying a man she doesn't like merely to please her family." Matthew let go of him after a moment. "We don't have time for this. Like I said, we're not children anymore."

Patrick pushed him away. "You will pay, Church. I will see to it. When this fool's errand is done, Lord Grantham will get an earful from me about what a terrible influence you are on his daughters, I assure you. And I will be sure to contact your employers as well, so they can know what you got up to while supposedly working for them."

"I'm sure they'll be happy to hear from you," Matthew shot back. It was a meaningless threat. Patrick had no idea how such a complaint would be met. The partners at Braxton and Campbell weren't quite anti-royalist, but they were unabashed capitalists who often laughed about the puffed up peacocks in noble families who refused to accept the changing times. But if it shut the man up to plot petty revenge, then Matthew was all for it.

They ran down the grand stairwell steps. Matthew could see that more and more people were milling about. He made his way to the elevators, Patrick close behind and hit the buttons. As they waited in stony silence, the crowd's murmurs made it clear that the ship was badly injured. "Did that fellow just say the water was up to the squash court?"

"Yes," Patrick muttered. Then he gestured to the elevator. "Look at that."

Matthew did. There was a small stream of water pouring out as the doors opened. He hesitated but only for a moment. Mary had good sense and so did Sybil, they knew they could call on any steward and get escorted to the upper decks. But Sybil was the sort of girl that cried over sickly kittens, Mary had said as much, and she had shared numerous radical opinions about helping those beneath her. Mary was likely to need help dragging her away from needy, desperate people. He got into the elevator. "Come on," he said, keeping his tone agreeable but firm. "The faster we find them, the faster we get to the boat decks."

Patrick glared but got in. They rode in silence until they reached the third class passenger area. Matthew was surprised that no one was waiting for the elevator but then recalled that there were likely barriers up. The floor was also noticeably wet. Then, he stepped out, he looked down the hallway and saw the barred barrier, and Mary arguing with several of the stewards. He looked the other way, and could see that the water was slowly seeping forward. The deck itself was beginning to slant. "Come on," he said to Patrick.

Patrick's face whitened. He stepped back into the elevator. "You can fetch her well enough. Father needs to know… He didn't realize how bad it is… I have to warn him…" And then the door closed.

"You bloody coward," Matthew muttered darkly. He didn't waste another breath on it, because his own fears were rising as steadily as the water. He ran down the hallway to the barrier. Sure enough, Sybil was on the other side, with the young lad Tom that he'd seen her with earlier.

Mary looked relieved to see him. She gestured angrily to the two stewards. "I don't know who is worse, Sybil for being so impossibly stubborn or these two imbeciles who won't believe me." She pointed at Sybil. "She won't leave without him, and they don't believe me that that he's also a first class passenger."

He understood the problem instantly. The stewards would unlock the barrier for Sybil, but not for Tom, who was wearing his shabby suit that marked him as Second Class at best. Worse, the lad was talking, which revealed the Irish accent that the stewards no doubt associated with the Third Class passengers.

"Sybil, lass," Tom pleaded, "Don't be a fool. Go with your sister, I'll find another way up."

"I'm not leaving without you and the other way out is already blocked," Sybil said quickly. She gave Mary a beseeching look. "It's not right, they're refusing Tom…"

"He's third class, Irish," muttered the older looking steward. "Our orders was to keep the third class passengers down here until called."

To hell with it, Matthew thought. The water was rising and the world wasn't going to end if the fellow got to the boat decks. "Why," he said sternly, taking great care to mimic Tom's accent, "do you think an Irishman can't possibly be a first class passenger? I'll grant you my young brother Tom here is a fool, and a mischief maker, who no doubt used his silver tongue to talk Lady Mary Crawley's sister down here for the dancing, but I assure you he's a first class passenger. I should know, I paid for it, just like I paid for this young wastrel to attend Harvard. Now let the two of them out, so I can get my hands on him and teach him to mind." He shook his finger at Tom, hoping the lad would play along. "Look at you, wearing my valet's best suit. Maybe Papa was right, that seminary would drive the devil out of you, and this is how you repay my taking you under my wing?"

Tom got it in an instant. "Oh please, please don't tell Papa, Matthew."

"See?" Sybil cried out, taking care to not laugh. "He is a first class passenger, now open the gate!"

"Yes, open the gate," Mary added, her eyes twinkling, "so we can take these two disobedient children and discipline them like they deserve."

"And if you don't open the gate," Matthew warned, his Irish accent growing more extravagant, "then I will need your names so I can report you both."

"Oh, to hell with that," the younger steward said suddenly. He unlocked the door, and Mary quickly pulled both Sybil and Tom out.

"Come on then," Matthew grabbed Mary by the arm and pulled her down the hallway, with Tom doing the same. The water on the floor was higher, not over their shoes but certainly deeper than before. Matthew hit the button for the elevator.

"Thank you," Tom said suddenly. Sybil nodded. Mary rolled her eyes at the younger girl.

"You're still in trouble," Mary warned. She glared at Tom. "The only reason I'm not tearing you limb from limb is because you were trying to convince her to not be such a stupid fool. This ship is sinking." She looked at Matthew. "And you are quite the marvel. I had no idea the Crawleys had an Irish side."

"Never mind that," Matthew blushed as the elevator door opened. "Get in." The women jumped in but Tom held back.

"My family," he said, his eyes stricken, "they're at the other gate, the main gate."

Matthew gestured for Mary to hold the door, she did and blocked Sybil's exit as well. He stepped over to Tom. "I won't stop you from going but I can't go with you. I promised their father that I would see them safely to the boat decks. This trick I just played won't work at the main gate, you know that. In just the time I got out of this elevator and found you, the water has risen noticeably. You may not be able to get to the other gate in time. Right now, you've got the chance to get topside. Come with us."

"Tom, get in the elevator!" Sybil shouted. "You can find your family on the boat decks! Your brother said he was going to take them up the servant passages!"

"All right," Tom agreed, his expression ashen. Matthew followed him into the elevator and hit the button for the top deck. Tom looked him over, a hint of a smile coming to his face. "You know, for all you're dressed like a toff, you have the accent of a Kilkenny cowman. But thank you. I never thought an Englishman would save my life."

"Well, I never thought an Irishman would complain about my accent." Despite it all, they all started laughing as the elevator slowly rose.


	6. Chapter 6

*Author's note: I have to reneg on my "sex in the Renault" promise. I hadn't seen the film in ages and forgot that the sex in the car scene was well before the ship hit the iceberg.

Mary eyed the elevator panel. It wasn't running smoothly, not at all, it jerked and groaned in a way that it hadn't in her earlier rides, but she kept it to himself. Mary knew there weren't enough boats for all the passengers, and Matthew was clever enough to figure it out but she suspected Sybil and Tom hadn't considered it. She also wasn't certain that any of them understood that the ship was mortally wounded. She was certain of it. She didn't pretend to be a shipwright at all but she could feel the slant in the deck. That there was water in the third-class areas, that her feet were wet because sea water was filling the ship, Mary didn't need an engineering degree to know the ship was foundering. We have get to the boats, she told herself, that's the most important thing.

Sybil gave her a worried look as the elevator clanged. Matthew made a calming gesture at the younger woman but was eying the elevator controls. Mary made the decision, she hit the button for the next floor, not the top deck that Matthew had chosen. "We're none of us crippled," she said quietly, "we're well above the water. We can take the stairs." She gave Sybil a smile. "You know I don't trust elevators…"

Matthew nodded, but didn't say anything else. He was, she thought with no small amount of pleasure, the sort to keep calm and quiet in a crisis. He knows, Mary thought as the elevator halted, that the situation was grave. Grave enough that she had the same worry he did about the elevator. As she had the thought, the lights flickered and the door only opened half way. He pushed it open and gestured for the women to get out. "I recall Patrick saying the family was assigned to Boat One. That's on the starboard side." He looked at the crowd of people milling. Then he looked Tom in the eyes, his expression grim. "Take Lady Sybil by the arm. I'll take Lady Mary. I have a feeling this crowd could turn rough."

Mary took his arm without a fuss. "Go on, Sybil. Don't dawdle. We've wasted enough time looking for you." An hour at least, which meant it was past one o'clock, making it all the odder to see so many people up and about. As Matthew and Tom dragged them to the stairwells that led to the upper decks, she was struck by how oddly people were dressed. Some were like her and Matthew, still dressed in their evening finery, and some were in pajamas and robes. She even spotted a few men and women who were clearly third class passengers, in drab work clothes, clutching valises and little children.

They reached the upper decks and then she spotted her father. He was dressed in the hunting clothes he'd brought, only too late realizing there wasn't likely to be any hunting in America. Still, he was one of the few people who looked warmly dressed. He spotted them as well and immediately began rushing towards them, moving through the swirling crowd far more swiftly than Mary ever would have thought possible. "Oh thank goodness!" Robert exclaimed as he reached them. "I was worried that Patrick and Matthew wouldn't find you two." He began pulling them towards the crowd swirling around the boats. "Your mother and sister are in Boat One. Boat 9 is loading right now, and you two are going to be on it."

He reached for Sybil's free arm, only then noticing Tom. "Who are you?" Robert turned to Matthew. "And where is Patrick?"

"This is Tom Branson," Matthew said quickly. "He's the good chap who helped me find Sybil and Mary below decks. And Patrick… has gone to check on his father, to help the fellow find a place on the boats." He hesitated only a moment. "I think any debate about why we had to fetch Lady Sybil should wait until tomorrow, Robert."

Robert eyed Tom but nodded. "Right." He managed to glower at Sybil but Mary could see he was doing it to set them at ease. "We'll talk about this tomorrow after this mess is concluded. Matthew, young Tom, help me get these two to the boats. We don't have time to argue."

He was frightened, Mary realized suddenly, frightened that his daughters weren't going to get places in the lifeboats. She had only seen that sort of expression on his face once before, when Sybil was born. The birth had been difficult, her mother had been in danger, it was why there had been no more children, and she understood later that it had been touch and go but the whole time her father had been cheerful but firm. Firm and worried, which was how he showed his fear. She had understood that the ship was badly damaged, but she hadn't been convinced they were all in mortal danger until she looked her father in the eyes and saw that he was desperately frightened.

"Of course, Papa is right," she said, gripping Matthew's arm. "Come on, Sybil, we need to find our place on the next boat." It was easier said than done, Mary realized as she followed her father through the surging crowd. Some people still looked uncertain, a lot of the women were fussing with their men about the cold and the size of the boats. She remembered the talk in the Second Class library about the ship's safety features and the number of lifeboats versus the number of passengers. Matthew and Tom helped her father push through the crowds and in minutes, she and Sybil were sitting on a cramped hard bench in Boat Nine, while Matthew, Tom, and her father looked on with relief.

"Don't forget," Robert said, his voice almost shaky with relief, "your mother and sister and the servants are in Boat One."

"And there's ships on the way," Tom called to Sybil. "The officer loading the boat said so." The officer in question nodded slightly, but Mary suspected that was for the benefit of the many ladies sitting in the boat.

"They're undoing some of the collapsible boats," Matthew added. His voice held a small amount of forced cheer. "Once you ladies are down, we'll get ourselves a place."

"Quite right," Robert added. Mary nodded even though she was certain Cousin Matthew was lying through his teeth to keep them and the other women calm. The boat began to lower.

"Hey wait up, lads!" The blocky fireman that had been put in charge of the boat rose to his feet and waved at the officer. "Sir, I'm the only man in the boat! I need someone else to work the oars!"

The officer frowned. Mary saw his problem instantly. He needed the men on the ropes to lower the boat and the ones who had helped with loading had already moved on to the next boat. Finally, the officer pointed at the small cluster of Matthew, Tom and Robert. "One of you gentleman can get in the boat."

Matthew pushed Robert to the boat edge. "Get in, Robert."

Tom nodded. "It should be you, sir. You're married, and you have children."

Mary wasn't surprised that her father protested. "You're both young men, better for the job at the oars…"

"We don't have time to bloody argue," the officer shouted. "One of you get in the boat or none of you!"

"Lord Grantham is coming!" Matthew shouted. He nodded at Tom and they both gripped Robert and forced him into the boat. "You told us all at dinner the other night that you wished you could find more opportunities for yachting."

"Think of your wife and children," Tom added. "If my own father was here, I'd be telling him the same thing."

After a moment, Robert accepted it, and Mary felt the relief wash over her. Then it ramped up again as Matthew gave Robert a piercing look.

"Lord Grantham… Robert…" Matthew began. "My mother lives in Manchester. Her name is Isobel Crawley. If this… ends badly, I ask that you see to her, that she falls under your protection." He shook his head nervously and grinned, as if he'd just been foolish. "I don't intend for this to end badly. Tom and I will head up to the next boat launch. If we don't get places on the boats, well we're both strong swimmers, right Tom?"

Tom nodded cheerfully. "That's right. If nothing else we'll keep swimming until the other ships get here."

They're being brave, Mary realized as she squeezed Sybil's hand to keep her from crying out, they're being brave and we must let them. "I expect to see both of you when the ships come for us. Remember, we're in Boat Nine but if you swim to some other boat first, do let them pick you up."

"Of course," Matthew said. He and Tom waved as the boat began to lower down. By the time it hit the water, her father was already gamely struggling with the oars. From the tiny lifeboat, the Titanic loomed over them, but she could see the bow of the ship dipping under the water. Dear Lord, she prayed suddenly, I know with my mother and sister in one boat and my father and younger sister in another but please keep Matthew safe tonight. And for Sybil's sake, watch over the Irish fellow as well.


	7. Chapter 7

Matthew could feel the slant on the deck getting steeper. He stepped back from the railing. At least the women are safe, he thought. Now I have to find a path to survival. "Any thoughts on our next steps, Mr. Branson? There still a few boats left that we could try for." Looking at the crowds swirling around the few boats, he didn't think it was much of a chance. He was still in evening dress and as a first class passenger, he had to let any woman and child go ahead of him. It was unlikely that the opportunity that saved Lord Grantham's life would occur again. It was ironic, he thought with some amusement, that Tom in his shabby suit was more likely to be assumed strong enough to work the oars.

Tom looked at the crowds and shook his head. "We'll never get on one." He pointed to the boats that were already in the water. "I think the better plan is to try to swim for the boats after the ship sinks. Or maybe find something to float on…" Tom smiled ruefully. "I don't know why I'm saying anything at all. I don't know how to swim. I just told Lady Sybil that so she would get in the boat."

Matthew laughed. It was gallows humor, and more the pity that Lady Sybil was never likely to know what a nice chap Branson was. "It's more important to float. Let's at least find some of these lifejackets."

He was frankly surprised by the number of people who had abandoned the lifejackets but decided it wasn't the right time or place to start lecturing people. "Come on," he said as he pulled Tom through the teeming throng of panicking people. "I have an idea."

The sudden hope on Tom's face saddened him, since it wasn't a great idea but it was better than nothing. Worse, he had the sense that it was beginning to dawn on the crowd as a whole that they weren't going to get on the few remaining boats. With the deck becoming increasingly steep, they only had a few minutes to get where he wanted to be. Tom didn't argue, and in minutes they were up against the railing on the stern of the ship.

"What are we doing?" Tom asked.

"Feel the slant." Matthew pointed to the deck and to how the bow was beginning to dip under the water. "The water is dragging the bow down, this will be the last part of the ship to go under." He gave Tom an intent look. "The water will be freezing so its best if we stay on the boat as long as we can. Get on the other side of the railing." He took his own advice and Tom followed. They weren't the only ones. There was one of the ship's bakers doing the same thing.

"Now what?" Tom gulped nervously. "This only keeps us dry for so long."

Matthew took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The ship's stern was rising, there was no denying it. He could see people running and panicking. "We got here just in time," he said to Tom. "Another few minutes and we'd be in the fight." Not everyone was fighting, the band was still playing, giving the evening an oddly discordant feel that Matthew doubted he would ever forget. "Tom, we might get separated. The life jacket will help you float but the water is too cold to stay in for very long. Those men we saw trying to free those two remaining boats… if we're lucky the boats will float off when the ship goes down and we can try for them. Or there will be some debris, that we can float on. We have to get out of the water. Do you understand?"

"Yes…" Tom shifted his grip on the railing as the deck shook. "But you can swim. You could try for the other boats. You barely know me, don't give up your chance for me."

"I'm not that good of a swimmer," Matthew admitted. "It's too far, and the water is too cold. So, lets stick together."

"I've got no better plans at the moment." Tom smiled but then the ship deck slanted even more. "Perhaps we should pray." Matthew saw the younger man wince out of the corner of his eye. He carefully reached over and put his hand on Tom's and gripped it.

"It won't hurt," he said, speaking above the rising panicked shouts and screams. He winced as well as people began shoving and fighting their way up the increasingly steep decking. A young man was dragging a girl up, no doubt to gain the dubious safety he and Tom, and the ship's baker already enjoyed. If the situation wasn't so grim, the pair would have made him laugh as he suspected he was looking at the infamous couple that had the whole ship talking, the first class girl and the third class boy. That little bit of amusement left him as the ship rocked and tilted under his feet. The young couple were the last ones to get over the railing, before the deck's tilt made it impossible to reach.

"You were smart," Tom muttered. He gave Matthew an appreciative look. "I didn't understand why you wanted to be on the outside of the railing." As he spoke, one of the people who hadn't made that choice lost their grip and fell, sliding down the deck and hitting numerous others. "Bloody hell…"

The ship rocked, and Matthew saw one of the giant funnel crack and fall, and then saw the deck near it breaking in half. "Hold on!" he shouted at Tom. "The ship is breaking up!" The stern of the ship suddenly dropped and he felt almost weightless until it smacked into the water below. The jarring almost made him lose his grip, but Tom grabbed him before he slipped. "Thanks…"

"We said we'd stick together," Tom noted, a trace of humor crossing his voice. "Remember, you have to show me how to swim, I can't let you go into the water without me." The deck began to tilt again. "Do you suppose it will float?"

"No," Matthew said. He scanned the scene, trying to avoid the eyes of the desperate people below. It was a nightmare scene, one that he doubted would ever leave him but he tried to shake off the horror as the stern kept rising. If you want to have nightmares about this later, he told himself, you have to stay calm now. "Tom, we're going into the water, there's no way to avoid it but look, the two boats that didn't launch… they're in the water now, we'll try for those. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Tom kept his hand on Matthew's arm as the stern bobbed and began to plunge downward. The shock of the cold water was like being stabbed with thousands of knives but he kicked up, reflexively pulling Tom with him. Even the air, upon surfacing, was cold. Out of the water, he told himself as he shook Tom back to awareness, we have to get out of the water. He saw one of the boats and remembered the plan. Even though it was overturned, getting on top of it would be out of the hellish water. "Come on!" he shrieked at Tom. "That boat! We'll get on it! I'll pull you, but you have to kick your legs!"

"Yes, yes," Tom squawked back, spitting out water. Matthew kicked his legs as well and paddled with one hand. People were getting on the boat, there would be a point where the survivors wouldn't let anyone else board. After what seemed like hours they were next to the boat. He shoved Tom up onto the overturned hull and started to pull himself up but all the men on the boat roared in protest.

"No more! You'll sink us!" shouted the closest. The burly fellow pointed at Tom. "He's too many! Find something else!"

"But there's nothing!" Tom shouted. The burly fellow looked like he was ready to pitch Tom off, which decided it for Matthew.

"Tom, no! Don't be stupid! I can swim! There's doors and crates! I'll get on one! Don't give up your place because of me!" He pushed away from the boat before Tom could protest, and the burly fellow gripped him in such a way that Matthew knew the man wouldn't easily let Tom throw his chance away.

Find something, he thought as his teeth began to chatter. The deck chairs were too flimsy, and too many people trying for the other canvas lifeboat that looked half sunk in the water already. Find something, he told himself, you don't have long. Finally, he chanced on a door, one of the doors from the smoking parlor. He hauled himself up on it, realizing as it almost flipped him back into the water that he would have to keep very still to stay on top of it. Not as good as a boat, no where near a truly safe place, but he was mostly out of the water. There are ships coming, he told himself as he shivered violently, the officer said so. And the other boats will come back when there's not so many people thrashing about. The screaming had already died off, there were shouts and pleas but it grew quieter as he rocked on the door he was lying on.

Later, he didn't know how much later, he began to accept that the cold was deeply nestled inside him. A pleasant sort of numbness encompassed him, made more pleasant by how the quiet had settled over the icy ocean water. This isn't bad, he thought tiredly, if this is how I die, it's not awful. He was pondering that though when a shrill whistle broke through the haze of his thoughts. A light flittered across his face. He raised up his head in time to see a boat, a lifeboat, not more than twenty yards away. The whistling was coming from a girl, a girl that the men in the boat were pulling out of the water. I want to be out of the water, he thought suddenly, I want to be in the boat. "Me too!" he called, his voice gravely from the cold. He waved as the men shined their torch at him. "Me too! I want to be in the boat…" In seconds the boat was next to him and strong men with warm hands were setting him on the bottom of the little boat.

"Bloody hell, I thought he was dead when we shined the light on him."

"Enough of them are." Hands shook him and he blinked his eyes but it suddenly seemed next to impossible to really stay awake.

"He's worse than the girl… Almost frozen."

Better frozen in the boat, he thought dimly, then frozen in the water. Then Matthew slumped to the bottom of the boat and let the relief envelope him.


	8. Chapter 8

Mary was too cold to thank the sailor that helped her off the unsteady rope ladder but she doubted she would ever forget his quintessentially English greeting. "'Ere you go, mum, mind yer step, that's right…" Once she was on the deck, another sailor quickly led her away from the ship's railing. Seconds later, she was joined by Sybil. They stood there, silent as they watched the other survivors come on deck from the boat. The night had been hellish, freezing and filled with the screams of the dying. Worse was the quiet afterward, when the only sound was the water against the oars her father was working, and the quiet sobs of the women who understood what the silence meant.

She hadn't cried. It wasn't time to cry, not yet. The Crawley luck will hold, she told herself, as more survivors were helped from the boat. Papa was allowed on a boat. Matthew is a clever fellow, she thought nervously, he'll have talked his way onto a boat and is rowing towards us. Except that didn't feel right at all. It felt like Patrick, not Matthew. Matthew was too kind to take a spot that would otherwise go to a woman or a child. Don't lose hope, she told herself.

Suddenly her mother was in front of her, with Edith, and Anna and O'Brien trailing behind. "Oh, thank god, I was so worried about you! And Sybil!" Cora pulled Sybil into her arms, hugging her tightly. Edith met Mary's eyes and they both nodded. Sybil was the baby, and their mother's favorite and after such a grim adventure, Mary doubted that Sybil would be allowed out of arm's reach for the next year.

It was obvious, when Cora finally let go of Sybil, that she dreaded the question she was about to ask. "Mary, where is your father?" The older woman visibly steeled herself, ready to take the awful blow that so many of the other survivors had taken. "Did he…?"

"He was chosen by an officer to be an oarsman, Mama." Mary never thought she would ever see her mother so happy. Edith and O'Brien both took ahold of Cora, as she swayed and almost fainted from relief.

"I told you, milady," O'Brien said pleasantly, "Lord Grantham has the luck, and look, that's him coming over the railing." The Irish lady's maid pointed at the railing, where indeed, Robert was going over the railing, looking surprisingly put together in his hunting clothes compared to the rest of the bedraggled sailors on the deck. He spotted them immediately and his face lit up. He rushed over and hugged Cora, and then pulled them all into his arms.

"I'm so very blessed," he said softly, "to be here with all of you. We must never take each other for granted, ever." After a very long moment, he seemed to regain his stoic manner. "Cora, Edith, have you seen Cousin James at all? Or Patrick? Matthew said Patrick went to find his father and get him on a boat."

"We haven't seen either of them," Edith said worriedly. "Or Cousin Matthew… There's still a few boats out. And there's some people that the officer who took the boat back pulled a few people out of the water…"

"Just about frozen, he said, milady" Anna added helpfully. "When they came up on us in the water, I gave them my shawl for those poor souls. We all did." She gave O'Brien a sharp look, and the older woman nodded, agreeing without words the way servants sometimes did. "Perhaps," Anna said carefully as more sailors moved about, "we should head inside. You all look cold to the bone and the people on this ship have the first class dining room filled with extra blankets and hot tea and coffee."

Robert looked them all over, if seeing them for the first time. "Anna is right, Girls, Cora, you all look frightfully cold and tired. Let's get you inside."

Mary almost protested but Anna caught her eye and she took the warning after eying her mother. Mama looks exhausted beyond reason, Mary realized, and so does Papa. They would, if she pushed it, continue to stay on deck to see all the boats come in but they both needed the warmth and comfort the ship's dining hall held. As much as she wanted to start searching among the shell shocked passengers for Matthew, she was the eldest and her parents needed to rest, reconnect, and get warm. Sybil looked to protest and Mary took her by the arm to forestall the protest she knew was building in her little sister. "It's not the time," she muttered under her breath to Sybil as Edith, Anna and O'Brien led her mother and father into the ship's formal dining room.

The warmth of the room struck her. In seconds, Anna and O'Brien had the family settled at a table and were bringing them hot cups of tea. Mary sipped it, letting the warmth envelope her and then took a good look around. The room was quite full, and as she watched, she saw what she assumed were some of the Carpathia's passengers consoling some of the women from the Titanic. A sailor came in with a sheet of paper and pinned it to the wall. Women immediately got up to look at the paper. One began laughing, with relief, and quickly went outside. It's a list of survivors, she realized. A sailor had asked their names, her name and Sybil's being on a list was likely why her mother and Edith had found them on the deck. There were other lists posted. Women crowded around the new paper, looking desperately at the names. Most, she realized, were disappointed. O'Brien discreetly walked over, while her parents held hands and talked, looked, and then came back, shaking her head slightly at Anna.

But, Mary considered, O'Brien shared her mother's disdain for Matthew. Or rather, O'Brien was fond of Patrick and had always taken his side in childhood spats. That extended to Matthew, which meant that she likely hadn't checked the list for Matthew, since O'Brien didn't like the 'middle class interloper'. Sybil was looking in that direction as well, and her parents were huddled together, holding hands as her father reassured her mother. That was likely to consume them for some time, so she rose to her feet and walked over to the lists. She knew without needing to look that Sybil was trailing behind her, and that Edith was distracting their parents with Anna's help. She suspected neither her mother or her father needed much distraction, her mother wasn't weak but she had likely spent the entire night desperately afraid that her husband and two daughters were dead. It was going to take no small amount of time to alleviate that.

Sybil came up beside her as the area around the lists cleared a little. It was mostly female names, Mary realized. Because they were family, she dutifully looked for Patrick's and James's names along with Matthew's, but there were no Crawley men aside from her father on the boat lists. Sybil pointed at one of the fresher lists, her excitement plain.

"Tom! Tom Branson! Oh Mary, isn't that amazing?" Sybil's joy was clear, but she toned it down after a moment, realizing not everyone's look at the list ended well. "We should check on him, the second and third class passengers are just down the way, in the Carpathia's second class dining room."

"Sybil…" Mary didn't know what to say. "He's not acceptable. You know that."

Sybil's expression scrunched up into a frown, a rarity for her. "For heaven's sake, Mary, our every waking moment isn't about our station in life. I want to see him because we enjoyed each other's company and he nearly died last night all while making sure I got found a place of safety. I owe him the courtesy of thanking him. I wasn't planning to wed him."

"Good, because Papa will likely murder him and then you." Mary looked at the lifeboat numbers listed and steeled herself to the reality. There were twenty lifeboats, and twenty lists. Matthew's name wasn't on any of them. If she felt a faint hint of relief that Patrick's name wasn't there either, she kept it inside. You weren't planning to wed him either, she reminded herself as she followed Sybil into the narrow hallway that led to the second class dining room. He was a good man who deserved better than to drown at sea before he lived his life, but he was just a cousin you had just met. It's a shame, you'll always remember his kindness in taking your side over Patrick, but the family needs you to be strong now. Because it was a horror show for her father, Mary knew that without question. As poor an heir as Patrick would have been, it was a hundred times for there to be an unknown stranger taking control of the estate.

Branson was with a group of men, all huddled under blankets, being offered hot drinks. Mary felt a bit of sympathy for all of them, they looked exhausted and wet. The second class women tending them were muttering their shock at how the group had stood on top of an overturned boat all night.

Sybil went to Tom like a moth to a flame. Mary mentally threw up her hands at that. Papa can end it, she decided. She had questions for the young Irish man. He had been the last person with Matthew. "We're both glad you're alive," she said curtly as Sybil hugged him. "But where is Matthew?"

"I don't know," Tom admitted sadly. "We were together when the ship sank. He pulled me to the lifeboat and got me on and…." His voice trailed off.

"And what?" Mary wanted to shake the answer from him but as she stepped forward, a burly looking stoker wrapped in a blanket stepped up. He frowned at her and put his arm around Tom supportively.

"I wouldn't let the chap he was with on," the stoker said bluntly. "We were on an overturned boat, miss. There wasn't room for everyone… there wasn't room for this lad but I could tell he couldn't swim…" Sybil gave Tom a sharp look at that while the stoker went on. "I wouldn't let his friend on, your Matthew, I assume. He'd have sunk us." The stoker looked at her sadly and then nodded towards Tom. "Don't be blaming the boy. It was me that said no. That one was ready to go back in the water after him, but your chap said no, that he'd find something else. A good man, that one."

"Thank you for telling us." Mary felt her heart clench and turn to ice as she spoke. She fought for control. "His mother will appreciate knowing… Sybil, I am going to step out for a moment." She waved off Sybil's concerned hand and took herself back into the hallway. Don't cry, she told herself harshly, you barely knew him. You barely knew him and if nothing else, you know he would be happy that you were safe. She held herself firmly, willing the grief to stop crushing her.

"Lady Mary?" Mary turned to her head to see Helen Bull, the woman who had joined their book discussion so long ago. The slightly older woman was warmly dressed in much less lavish clothes than what she had worn in the library on the Titanic. Helen smiled at her. "I'm so glad to see you. I was looking for you. For you and your family. Are they… well?"

Did they make it off the ship, Mary thought darkly, but then stopped herself. There was no malice in Helen's words, and it was awkward, no doubt, to ask after people who might have died. "We were very lucky. My mother and sister Edith were in one boat, and I and my younger sister in another, and my father was chosen as an oarsman."

"Very lucky then," Helen agreed. "Mr. Gilton, from the dinner we had, insisted on getting me to a lifeboat but…" Mary nodded. It didn't need to be said that the older man who had been so overjoyed at their book discussion had gone down with the Titanic. Helen's expression was downcast but then she seemed to shake it off. "Lady Mary, I was looking for you for a reason. Mr. Crawley, Matthew, was quite adamant that someone tell his family where he is."

It was as though she was falling from a very high place. "Matthew… is here? On this ship? Alive?"

"Only just," Helen cautioned. "Damned lucky, as my grandfather would say. One of the officers took our boat back for survivors. They only pulled a few out alive, but Matthew was one. I've been at his side, in the infirmary, until the doctor here said he was out of danger. He was lucky, out of the six they pulled out of the water, two of them died. The doctor asked me to find his family so he can calm down, the cold addled his wits a bit and he's quite worried about you all." Helen took her by the arm and pulled her down the hallway. Mary didn't fight it at all, she almost shoved the kind woman out of her way as they entered the tiny ship's infirmary. There were any number of people on cots covered with wool blankets. She spotted Matthew almost instantly, he was propped up on a bed, protesting as the doctor, a gray haired fellow in a white coat, tried to get him to drink from a mug.

"Cousin Matthew," she said softly, moving to his side quickly. She took his hand in hers, realizing he was ice cold and shivering still. "Ms. Bull found me and told me where you were and that you were fussing against the doctor's orders." She gave the doctor a look. The older man nodded. She understood what was needed. Matthew's eyes were open, he was seeing her, complete with the same open mouthed expression as when they first met, but deep cold could make someone act oddly. "Let me guess, this good doctor here wants you to rest and let some warmth return to your body before he allows you to go running around this ship looking for your family. Everyone is fine, Matthew. Papa is in the dining room getting Mama to drink some tea and calm down, Sybil is continuing her silly flirting with the third class boys. Young Tom is singing your praises to her. Even Edith is fine. But you are the one to worry about, so let this fellow treat you." She looked at the mug in the doctor's hand. "Let me guess, this is something to warm him and let him rest and he's being silly?"

"Something like that, yes," the doctor said, "Now, Mr. Crawley, your young lady is here to sit by your side, your family is well, I think its time you took my advice."

Matthew gripped her hand, surprisingly firm. "I love you," he said quietly, "I know I don't have any hope of being acceptable, but I love you and I have to say it so you know."

"I do know." She leaned in and kissed his forehead. "I love you too, but you need to drink the doctor's potion and rest." She sat by his side as he drank the medicinal drink and wasn't surprised at all that his eyes fluttered shut in seconds. She gave the doctor a stern look. "What did I just talk him into drinking?"

"A rum toddy with a little bit of a sleeping draught." The doctor looked worried but, she realized, not so worried that she feared what would come. He looked down at Matthew's now sleeping form. "Thank you for reassuring him. Sometimes when people get too cold, they stop thinking clearly. They say and do things that aren't rational. Fortunately, he should recover easily enough. He's young and strong, that's likely what saved him. You can sit with him if you like, but it's very unlikely he'll wake up again for a few hours." The doctor hesitated. "You might want some rest yourself, miss. I imagine it's been a hard night for everyone who came from the Titanic."

"You're right," she admitted, "but I need to sit with him a bit, I think. To make sure he's all right." To make sure he stays alive, she almost added. Each breath he took was a reminder to her just close it had been and just how quickly her own future would have fallen. I love him, she realized, I've fallen in love with a middle class solicitor. Patrick is dead, and I am in love with Matthew… what a mess this will make.


	9. Chapter 9

He wasn't unsteady, not quite. Matthew looked at the Carpathia's elderly doctor, a quizzical expression crossing his face. "I don't understand. All I did was lie on a door, but I feel like I went fifty rounds in a barefisted boxing match. And lost."

The doctor shook his head, chuckling ruefully. "When you're in the washroom tonight, don't be surprised if your body has all the colors of a sunset. You may not have felt being slammed into by heaven knows how much wreckage, because you were likely too numb from the cold water to feel it."

Matthew nodded, the truth was that his memory of the last twenty four hours was hazy at best. The water had been painfully cold, then he had been shaking from the cold in a bed in the Carpathia's infirmary when he wasn't solidly asleep. He knew people had come by, Lord Grantham had thanked him for his assistance, and he was faintly certain that Lady Mary had encouraged him to drink something, but he didn't trust it. "Do you know when we will get to New York? Are we going to New York?" He was also a little hazy on geography in America. "Or is Boston closer? Your ship must have been on its way to England…"

"We' re returning to New York City," the doctor said gently. "We should be there tomorrow evening. The Carpathia isn't provisioned to carry 750 extra passengers for the time it would take to cross, plus I think the captain burned all the extra coal diverting as quickly as he did. Now, you're well enough to fend for yourself, and I believe the kitchens are providing meals upon request. I need your bed for one of the women having hysterics." The doctor sighed. "I shouldn't be so impatient. Sadly, this is a ship of widows and mourners." The older man patted him on the back. "You're quite lucky, you know. They only pulled a few people out of the water."

"I have to assume that my mother's prayers were answered," Matthew agreed, "Because I was quite certain I was done for." And it dawned on him suddenly that with the telegraph system in play, his mother had likely already heard the news about the Titanic sinking. "I should find Lord Grantham and check on his family."

He left the infirmary, realizing almost immediately that the ship was literally crammed full of people. There didn't seem to be a lot of activity, just people sitting quietly, looking bereft and shocked. Women mostly, and he wasn't sure why that surprised him, but it did just the same. So much so that when he reached the deck and saw Tom Branson standing by a ship's railing, he was surprised to see a man that wasn't one of the Carpathia's sailors or stewards. "Tom," he called, "you made it!"

Tom turned, his eyes sad but a smile came to his face as he looked over Matthew. "As did you! Lady Sybil told me that they pulled out of the water nearly frozen to death." He looked Matthew over as he spoke. "Should you even be out of bed? You look a little shaky."

"I'm hungry," Matthew admitted with a laugh. "The doctor told me I was well enough to get my own supper and that he needed my bed for someone in greater need. Where have they put all the single men anyway?" He gestured to the serviceable but not exactly well styled suit of clothes he was wearing. "And who should I thank for finding me something other than the remains of my evening coat to wear?"

Tom chuckled. He gestured to his own suit, which was slightly less shabby than the one he'd been wearing the last time Matthew had seen him. "It seems the male passengers of the Carpathia, and the ship staff as well, donated quite a bit. Yours is nicer than mine, but only just."

"I've worn worse," Matthew admitted. It struck him suddenly, just how lucky he was and how much better off he was than Tom Branson. His employer had an office in New York City. Once they knew he was alive, they'd have him outfitted and working on the case. Tom in contrast was likely wearing the only clothes he had and everything he owned was lying on the bottom of the ocean floor. Worse, Matthew suspected there was a reason he'd found Tom staring forlornly out over the ocean. "Have you had any word about your family? Are they on board?"

Tom's smile left him and he looked down and away. "I'm afraid not. Not many from the third class made it out." He managed a wry, pained laugh. "Ironic, isn't it? I was the one who didn't want to emigrate. My father and brothers were the ones with the big plans. And now, I'm landing in New York with empty pockets and not even my family to commiserate with."

"There will be a settlement from White Star," Matthew offered. "The doctor said there's already talk of an inquest. I'm not surprised, it's a bloody disaster. White Star was actually advertising the ship as unsinkable." A thought struck him, a way to help the lad. "Tom, if you have no plans once we land in New York… You seem a bright fellow. I don't mean this question offensively. Can you read and write at a reasonable level?"

The younger man did seem to start at the question. "Yes. I was the youngest so my mother insisted I get the schooling. I did well too, the priest wanted me to consider the seminary. I don't take offense. There's plenty of men, Irish and English, who can't read or write. But why do you ask?"

"I need a clerk." Matthew was warming to the idea. "I was planning to hire one when I arrived. I'm a solicitor by profession, I'm handling a court case for my firm. Law clerks don't need to have law degrees, you just need to keep track of my papers and briefs, file things, run errands, and basically keep track of the work. You have to read well enough and write well enough to keep up. It pays well enough, and you can stay with me at our company's lodging. It would give you a start at least, and when the case is done, you can return with me to England. If you don't decide to stay… I've heard good things about New York."

Tom's face lit up. "I don't… I don't know how to thank you. First you got me to that boat, I wouldn't be alive if you hadn't done that, and now this."

"Don't thank me, it's a lot of work. You'll earn the pay." Matthew rubbed his stomach. "And your first job is to take me to the dining room. I have never felt so famished as I do right now." As much as he wanted to find Lady Mary and her family, he had to admit, he was almost faint from hunger.

Tom took his new duty seriously. He took Matthew by the arm and in minutes had him sitting at a table in the ship's dining area, telling the steward to fetch the poor chap who had actually survived in the water a large hot meal. Matthew would have preferred a little less attention, except that along with all the pats on the back, it led to a large bowl of tasty stew being put in front of him in mere seconds. That held his interest for a good few moments while Tom chattered with the well wishers. It was interesting to hear the rumors. He discovered that rumor had it that he'd actually gotten safety on a floating block of ice and not a door. The rumored first class girl and her third class lover were secretly hiding from the girl's fiancé. Bruce Ismay, head of White Star, was alive but a broken man, drugged to the gills in a private room somewhere on the ship. With rare exception, the elite of America's robber barons had been felled by the sinking of the Titanic.

New York City, Matthew mused as he ate steadily, was going to be a city draped in mourning for months. He hadn't planned on a lot of time for fun to begin with, he had been more concerned with putting in a good showing on the court case he had been sent to work on, but he suspected New York was going to be much more somber than he expected. Losing John Jacob Astor and Benjamin Guggenheim at the same time was a blow, but he had been introduced to many other scions of American industry and he doubted that more than a few had survived. And as his hunger was sated and he paid more attention to the people chattering with Tom, there was a lot of talk about whether someone had survived with honor or not. Ismay was the main target, any number of people were muttering about him. Tom was invited to a small card game and Matthew shook him off easily. It was best, he decided, to not make the lad think he needed to dote on him.

He wondered as he saw Robert and Mary enter the dining room, if anyone was questioning Lord Grantham's survival. Likely not, he realized. There were plenty of witnesses to say he was offered a spot as a rower, and that he had to be talked into it. He wasn't surprised that the Crawleys came over and took seats at the table he was at. "Lord Grantham, Lady Mary…"

As he started rise, Robert waved him down. "Don't get up," Robert said easily as he and Mary sat down at the table, "We were looking for you, Matthew, and the doctor in the infirmary said it was likely you were here. I wanted to let you know that I was able to send a wireless message to my mother, and I asked her to contact your mother in Manchester with the good news that you survived this tragedy."

Mary nodded, smiling slightly. "You mentioned, in our talks, that it was just you and your mother, and I knew you'd want her worry eased."

Matthew found himself smiling as well. It had occurred to him how worried his mother would be but had accepted he didn't have the pull or the money to afford a wireless message to be transmitted from the ship and forwarded to London. The only positive he saw was that his mother would eventually receive very good news after weeks of worry, weeks of worry that were no longer an issue. It was the sort of kindness that he knew dwelled inside of Mary Crawley, to have her father use his clout to ease the mind of a woman she hadn't met simply because they were friends. It was the sort of kindness that would be lost on Patrick.

The thought of Patrick forced him to ask the question. "I haven't had a chance to see the lists of survivors… Did Patrick and James find places on the lifeboats?"

Robert's face fell. Mary made a point of looking down respectfully. "I'm afraid not, Matthew. Mrs. Astor saw them near one of the boats but they weren't allowed on and that was the last she saw of them. They say other ships are at the Titanic's last known coordinates but… there may not be any bodies to bury."

"I'm sorry." Matthew meant it. He hadn't liked Patrick and he had barely known Cousin James at all, but Robert and James had been openly affectionate despite their differences, and while Patrick had clearly exasperated Robert at times, it was clear that Robert had cared for the younger man. He was glad suddenly that no one knew Patrick had abandoned the search for the women. There was no point in leaving the family with that ugly last image.

Robert nodded sadly. "Sadly, the only good thing about this is that poor James didn't outlive his son. He was devoted to Patrick, it would have broken him to pieces. I understand it, of course. I doubt I'd be able to go on if anything happened to my wife or daughters." He paused for a respectful moment of silence. "I'm told by the ship officers that we'll arrive in New York tomorrow evening. We had already reserved rooms at a hotel, our plan had been to enjoy the city for a few days before we joined Cora's mother at her Rhode Island estate. I want you to join us, Matthew. I'm sure you could use a few days of rest, and some opportunity to get sorted."

"That's a generous offer," Matthew began carefully, "but I am sure my company hasn't canceled my arrangements and I have my clerk to consider." At their raised brows, he gestured to Tom, who was talking with a few of the surviving men. "Tom, Mr. Bransom, the fellow who helped me find your daughters… The poor lad lost his family in the sinking, and I found him to be a brave, decent fellow and he has the skills I need in a law clerk. He did me any number of good turns in the last two days, so I thought I'd return the favor." He had to admit, he would otherwise be tempted to take advantage of Robert's offer. He doubted the housing his law firm would arrange would be terrible, but the firm founders were usually frugal with younger lawyers. He was certain that the expensive ticket on the Titanic would have been canceled if the partner who was supposed to handle the case hadn't fallen ill a mere two days prior to departure.

Robert blinked back his surprise. "Bring him along. The extra room was always for two men, and I have my own reason to show the fellow a little gratitude."

That and Mary's small glowering look told Matthew that Robert hadn't quite connected the fact that his daughters had needed chasing after because Lady Sybil was enamored with young Tom. Young Tom who was now slightly more acceptable and respectable now that he was the law clerk of an admittedly distant relative. Even worse, Matthew thought with some amusement, it was fair to say Robert probably thought he owed the Irish ex-chauffeur. "I think I can safely say we both appreciate your generosity."

"Oh Papa, look," Mary pointed to a cluster of women entering the dining room, "I see Mama has that lovely American woman, Mrs. Brown with her. Why don't you let me tend Cousin Matthew here and help Mama entertain her new friend?" She waited until her father left the table and was out of earshot before she raised the complaint he knew was coming. "You must speak with him, Matthew. He's not acceptable for Sybil."

"First, you should know I did speak to him, before the ship even hit the iceberg. It was your sister who snuck down to Third Class the other night. Second, I just offered him the job and I had no idea your father would invite me to share your hotel rooms. Third," and he let an amused note enter his voice, "maybe you should speak to your sister."

"She's willful and obstinate," Mary countered, a smile twitching at her lips.

"I sense that is a family attribute," Matthew agreed, finding himself smiling as well. He forced it away. "I am sorry about Patrick. I don't pretend we were close, and I know you didn't love him as a fiancé but it must hurt to lose a cousin you knew as a child."

"I suppose," Mary said carefully, "that what I am sorriest about is that Edith is devastated, and Patrick never saw that she was exactly the sort of wife he wanted." She sniffed. "There's no love lost between Edith and I, but I would have gladly stepped aside if Patrick had even glanced at her. As it was, I think Mama was more worried that he'd want to wait for Sybil's season this fall. As for Patrick himself…." She sighed. "I'm glad Papa told me to wait until the trip was done to dash the engagement plans. In his way, he did love me, or at least he loved the idea of being married to me. At least he met his end thinking we were to be married."

Another thing to never mention, Matthew decided as he recalled Patrick's angry words to him, that Patrick had more than realized that Mary planned to reject him. Not that he thought it would somehow break Mary, she was strong like steel, but he suspected it also eased Robert and the rest of the family. "Poor fellow…"

"You're luckier, I agree," Mary put her hand on his, "but frankly, you look frightful. Like you were in a prize fight and lost."

"I'm beginning to feel it," he admitted, although the heaped bowl of stew was easing a lot of the aches and pains by forcing the last of the chill from his body. "Will you still be spending the summer in Rhode Island or will your father need to return home to deal with the estate?" A thought struck him. "Good lord, he no longer has an heir..."

"The lawyer will need to start searching, yes," Mary agreed. "But I suspect, with no bodies for a funeral, that we will still spend at least a month or two with Grandmama Levinson, and have a service when we return."

"It's likely that there will be an investigation as well," Matthew noted. "I mean, the unsinkable ship did sink. There's hundreds of people dead. There will likely be a number of inquests."

Mary giggled suddenly. "I'm sorry," she said as she laughed in her hand and covered her expression, "its not funny at all but…the unsinkable ship sank on it's maiden voyage." She giggled again and in seconds Matthew was chuckling as well.

"We're a terrible pair," Matthew chortled, struggling to keep it down. "We shouldn't be laughing…"

Mary nodded as she continued chuckling. "Yes, this is a terrible tragedy, we both almost died and you were nearly frozen to death and oh my lord, Matthew, the ship hit a bloody iceberg and sank on it's maiden voyage and it was **unsinkable**!" They both laughed. Finally she wiped her eyes and seemed to shake it off. "I needed that, and I think you did too."

"It hurts to laugh but yes," he admitted.

"You will be invited to Grandmama's." Her eyes brooked no disagreement. "I know you have a court case but I'm sure you can occasionally get away for a weekend. You are family now, Cousin Matthew. And… do you remember what you said to me in the infirmary?"

He found himself blushing but was uncertain why. "Not…not really…" He knew she had visited him when he was first awake but he mostly remembered drinking something that seemed to warm him from inside out. "To be perfectly honest, there's a great deal I don't remember after going into the water. Tom makes it sound like I dragged him single handedly through the water and thrust him up on that upturned lifeboat with no help at all. Did I say something amusing?"

Mary smiled, her expression pleased but oddly secretive. "Not amusing, no. But it was something I wouldn't mind hearing again, when you're more aware of yourself. And that's one reason why I plan to spend more time with you."


	10. Chapter 10

The train tickets were for the first class car. A needless expense in Matthew's opinion but Robert had sent them as a gift along with the invitation to the Levinson estate in Rhode Island. With your court case resolved so splendidly, Robert's letter had said, and with the Titanic inquest finally over, why don't you join us for a week before you return to England? Matthew gave the man credit, for a lord, he seemed rather open minded about his distant solicitor kin. Not only had he put Matthew and Tom up at an expensive hotel during the inquest, he had insisted on having a tailor make them 'decent suits' for the courtroom. The older man had included Tom in the invitation, which would rile Mary and Mary's mother. "Come along," he said to Tom as he handed the conductor their tickets. "The train ride will be pleasant and we can talk about your plans."

Tom was an excellent law clerk. Matthew had no problem with asking the firm to take the man on permanently, but he wanted to be clear with Tom on what that would mean. He waited until they were in the nicely appointed first class seating area to get down to business. "You have a choice coming, Tom. If you want to stay here in America, I know the firm would be happy to keep you on in New York. Or, if you wanted to return to England, you'll have a job with Braxton and Campbell."

"I hear a but in your voice," Tom said, his tone cheerful but serious.

Matthew nodded. He knew Tom was clever. "It's not a major thing, but I want to be upfront about what returning to England and working at the firm would be like. I don't currently rate a full time law clerk." With the successful conclusion of the case, he suspected that things would change, but he didn't want Tom taking a position with the idea that they would continue to work together. "Most likely it would be four of us sharing your services and while I like to think the fellows at the firm are mostly a good lot, but I can't guarantee that none of them will have a harsh word about your being Irish. I will say Mr. Braxton and Mr. Campbell aren't that sort, and they agreed to my making the offer to hire you, but I want to be honest about what it will be like."

Tom smiled. "Fair enough, but I sense you're painting things a bit grimmer than necessary." He leaned back in the plush train seat. "I'm leaning towards returning to England. America has its charms, I don't deny it. I think being an Irishman isn't the problem here that it is back home, and I could have a good life here." His expression crumpled just a little. "But I never wanted a life here, and everyone that did want a life here died on that ship, and I think I would spend too much time thinking about how I'm living the life that all my family wanted. I haven't made up my mind about taking the job as a law clerk permanently. I like the money, I don't deny that, and the work suits me. I suppose my concern right now would be getting back to England." He grinned more broadly. "Not so much about affording the ticket, but I admit to not feeling terribly brave about crossing the ocean again."

"I admit a similar fear," Matthew conceded with a laugh. "Might I suggest you learn to swim before we return?" It was good to know what the man's plans were, Matthew thought as the train attendant brought them coffee and newspapers. There was a ship leaving Providence in eight days, they could leave from there instead of returning to New York. It was even on a much more southern route and with it being summer instead of spring, it would be a safe trip. As interesting and exciting as New York City was, he was anxious to get back to England. Part of it, of course, was anticipating how his success would be treated and partly because he was finding himself considering the option of seeing more of Lady Mary. They had exchanged letters and shared meals and conversations during the Titanic's inquest and he thought they were building some sort of meaningful relationship. The last time they had talked in New York, she had hinted rather broadly that she was willing to consider him as a suitor. That meant he would have to talk with her much the way he had spoken with Tom about what the reality of being with him would be.

His career was going well, he was certain he would get offers from other firms, offers that would involve more money. Matthew just doubted that, barring a windfall inheritance, that he would ever even come close to the sort of money Mary was used to living with. He could admit, to himself at least, that he had fallen in love with her, that as terrifying as the long cold night in the water had been, that knowing Mary was safe was what he had clung to. He wouldn't, he couldn't ask her to do something that would make her miserable. If they married, he knew he could provide her a fine house and a good life, the life of the wife of a successful solicitor. They could travel and have servants and not live lives of quiet desperation, but it would be different than the life she was currently living, a life where spending the spring and summer casually visiting relatives was commonplace and travel arrangements were always first class. If he had been purchasing their train tickets, second class accommodations would have been more than enough for a short trip of a few hours. He didn't want to make it all about money but at the same time he wanted her to understand what life with him would be like. He was willing to bend, he was quite certain that his mother and friends at work wouldn't be thrilled at the idea of him seeing a woman from a peerage family. He wondered if Mary even saw that as an issue, that it might not please his family.

It was better, he decided, to try and look through the situation from Tom's perspective. Tom's views were decidedly more liberal than his own, although Matthew gave the man a great deal of credit for knowing when it was wiser to keep his mouth shut. It was in some respects a shame the fellow was Irish. A clever fellow of Tom's age that was English would had more options than chauffeuring the rich or emigrating to America. He was glad the younger man was choosing to return to England.

It was also fun to see Tom's pleasure at the first class train ride, amongst other things. Matthew wasn't unfamiliar with such pleasures but it was a rare treat all the same. He also was rarely greeted upon arrival by a chauffeur and a waiting car. And while he had expected the Levinson estate to be extensive, he hadn't expected the Rhode Island abode to rival any number of English country estates that he had visited. Tom was impressed as well.

The greeting was quite formal, with the servants of the house lined up, and he was formally introduced to Mrs. Levinson, who eyed him like she would a suspicious pound note. Something was up, he could tell by any number of nervous glances between Robert and his wife, but Mary's genuinely warm smile belied anything truly serious.

Robert gestured to one of the nicely appointed parlor rooms. "Matthew, I was hoping to have a word with you privately. Girls, why don't you let Mr. Branson get settled in his room?" The older man gave his three daughters a look as he shooed them away, and Matthew was amused to see Mary pointedly pull Sybil along as they departed.

He followed Robert into the parlor room. It was, Matthew realized, something of a manly room. Not like a library, although there were books lining the walls, but something like a sitting room for men, complete with a lovely bar. Robert went right to the bar and poured them both glasses of whisky. Supper wasn't so far away that drinking spirits seemed unreasonable, so Matthew took the proffered glass with no hesitation. But he did wonder, and more so when Robert gestured for him to sit and took a seat opposite him.

Robert took a sip and then tapped a small stack of papers that was on the end table. "Matthew, this is actually quite awkward. You knew, of course, that Patrick was my heir? That he would assume the title of Earl of Grantham after my death?"

"He had mentioned it more than once," Matthew said easily. An odd thought occurred to him, that Patrick used to delight in teasing him how he was so distant a relative that he should just change his name to Smith and be done with it. "I imagine it must be awkward, being here in America while dealing with the necessity of finding the next person in line."

Robert smiled slightly and sipped his scotch again. "More awkward than you might think, I'm afraid." He leaned back on the sofa. "It's you, Matthew. With Patrick dead, and I unlikely to have another child as I am far too much attached to my wife to consider another, you are next in line to be the Earl of Grantham." He paused. "I don't know if I should congratulate you or commiserate. I have loved the position, and the estate, but I was also raised to embrace the role. This will change your life, Matthew."

Matthew allowed it to roll around in his head for a moment. He did more than sip the drink Robert had given him, he took a generous swallow and let it burn its way down to his stomach. "Are you certain of this, Robert?"

The older man nodded. "I found out when we were in New York for the inquest. I asked my lawyer to double check it and to be absolutely certain, before I told any of the family." Robert patted his knee. "I know this is a surprise and a shock. You certainly don't need to make any drastic decisions today. I know, from what you've said and from the news reports, that your career in law is flourishing. It's not common for a peer to work, but it's not unheard of… and it's not like you're toiling in a field. Going to university, reading law, is positively encouraged these days for younger sons." It was almost amusing to hear Robert talk of it, with a sort of odd wonder. It would change things, it would change things far more than his winning the case and nearly dying on the Titanic. It meant his being heir presumptive would be a consideration in whether he could take cases.

It also meant that his circumstances were dramatically different as far as marriage was concerned. Not only was it more concerning that he take a wife, he now stood to inherit the majority of Robert's wealth. Patrick had always bragged, and Matthew had to admit the evidence confirmed it, that the earldom was wealthy.

It meant that he could offer Mary exactly the life she was expecting. "Does the family know? That soon enough I will be more than Cousin Matthew."

Robert shook his head. "Cora knows because she's my better half, and her mother knows and will undoubtedly pester you as the vast amount of my fortune came to me through my marriage to her daughter. She wasn't thrilled with the idea that Patrick would inherit, that's one reason we decided on this trip to begin with. But Mother Levinson has agreed to not begin the inquisition until I tell the family tonight at dinner." Robert chuckled. "So, I wanted to make sure you had some warning."

Matthew nodded his appreciation. "Dinner will perhaps be more exciting than I planned."

"Quite. But hopefully still enjoyable." Robert's smile grew broader. "As it happens, Mary has been quite anxious about your visit. If I might be so bold, it had not escaped me that you and Mary have a fondness for each other." The man looked awkward but in a good way. "If it needs to be said, it's a fondness I approve of, and one I approved of prior to the sinking of the Titanic. Frankly, you're the first chap Mary has shown more than momentary interest in."

That was a surprise. "I can understand not disapproving now," since it allowed the family money to stay in the immediate family, a similar arrangement to the prior plan with Patrick, "but I admit I didn't think I'd previously had any hope."

Robert made a show of sighing deeply but Matthew sensed he was more amused than anything else. "I'm afraid between my mother and Cora and by proxy Mother Levinson, my daughters all believe that I will sell them to the highest bidder regardless of their feelings. That isn't the case at all. I won't deny that if one of them decided they were in love with the handsome chap that grooms the horses here that I wouldn't have some words to say, but for a young fellow with a good background and a good head on his shoulders? My sister didn't marry a nobleman, she married a good and decent man who she loved very much. If my daughters want to do the same, then as long as I find the fellow to be honorable and worthy, I would give my approval." He chuckled again. "I'd even approve of the stable hand if they were genuinely in love and I felt he could improve himself, but Mary isn't the daughter I worry about in that regard. Yes, the plan was for her to marry Patrick but I realized on the Titanic that they weren't suited. It was rather obvious who had turned her head, and while I won't deny it concerned me, it wasn't you that concerned me, it was that Mary might not understand how different life would be as the wife of a solicitor. With this news… that concern no longer exists."

"Yes but…" Matthew wasn't sure how to say it. "Does it concern you that I'm now your heir? A middle class lawyer? That frankly, you don't know that well? I could be a spendthrift. Or a wastrel, or a drunk. I might gamble your fortune away."

Robert smiled slightly. "If we're speaking frankly, then I will be honest and concede that yes, I have concerns. Mostly, I am concerned that it's not a life you've been born to, and that you'll consider the estate a burden, an albatross hung around your neck. But that you're a spendthrift or a wastrel? I see no signs of that. Or of drunkenness, and if you're a gambler, you're very discreet. No, Matthew, I have no concerns about your character. You've been brave, even noble. You can protest if you like, but the truth is that you had no real obligation to go chasing after my daughters that dreadful night." His voice dropped. "It also hasn't escaped me that you've discreetly not mentioned why Patrick left the task to you."

Matthew nodded, feeling uncomfortable. Any number of male survivors, Bruce Ismay the most well known, had faced the public ire over the tales other survivors were telling, of well born men gaining places in the boats by subterfuge and cowardice. "For what it's worth, I do think he was worried about his father."

"Perhaps," Robert agreed, "but he left my daughters below decks on that ship. I thought better of him than that, and I am glad that aspect of the story was kept from the papers. At this point, I think there's no reason to sully Patrick's memory, don't you agree?"

"Of course," Matthew said it easily. The childhood spats with Patrick were long over. With the man dead and the body not even found, there was no reason to have that moment of petty revenge. "I appreciate you warning me about this news before dinner."

There was a knock on the door, and Mary swept in before either of them could rise to their feet. "Oh come now, Papa. Poor Matthew has spent hours cooped up on the train and will spend hours sitting in Grandmama's admittedly lovely dining room. Let me show him the gardens before supper, so he can stretch his legs a bit. Matthew, I imagine Papa was yet again thanking you, wasn't he?"

"Something like that," Robert said jovially. "But Mary is right. The gardens here are lovely. It's not home but Levinson Manor's gardens do come close to Downton's. You'll see soon enough."

Mary waited until they were outside to smile her pleasure. "I take it Papa has already invited you to visit us in Downton once we're returned?"

Matthew hesitated as he looked out over the lovely rose garden. He took in the heady scent of the flowers. "In a way, yes." He looked at her, and made his decision. He wasn't one for sly tricks, and Mary would find out soon enough that his circumstances had dramatically changed. "Mary, he told me something that was a surprise… something that changes things a great deal. Apparently, I am now his heir."

He could see the surprise on her face. She was cautiously delighted, that was clear. "Is Papa quite certain? I knew he had some notifications from his lawyer on the matter." She smiled suddenly. "What a relief for Papa."

"A relief?" It wasn't the reaction he expected. "How so?"

Mary shrugged as they walked. "For a middle class lawyer, you'd already impressed Papa with your sense of honor and duty. He worried about how Patrick would manage the estate and the family after he was gone. There's quite a lot of money, I doubt he spelled that out in your short meeting, but there are also quite a few expenses. You're… responsible. Is that the right word?" At his nod, she pressed on. "Papa loves Downton. He calls it one of his children, and possibly the one he loves the most. He wouldn't want it in the hands of someone who wouldn't take care of it. I suspect that's one of the reasons he pressed me to consider Patrick. I love Downton, even if Patrick just saw it as a place to have parties. I would have protected it from him, if necessary." She stopped walking. "This changes things for you a great deal, Matthew. You will be a very eligible bachelor when you return to England."

He nodded, because he couldn't argue the facts at all. "That's true but… it also changes things between us." Matthew struggled to find the right words, to not sound too forward. "The family is mourning right now. But… when that passes, I would like to see more of you. I thought, on the ship, more than once, that it was a shame that the first time I found a woman worth pursuing, she was already spoken for." He waited a moment. "With my circumstances changed, I wonder if I were to call on you when we return to England, if you would find that acceptable?"

"I would. Things are different," Mary agreed, She spoke firmly. "I would like that very much, and I would have liked it even if your circumstances hadn't changed." She took in his surprise with no small amount of amusement. "You really don't know your own charms, Matthew. You're the only man other than my father that finds me worthy to treat as an equal, which is a shocking delight. And I suspect you don't realize how handsome you are. But what I am intrigued by is that you could have tested me and didn't. I won't lie. I suspected the news you just told me. Papa was far more cheerful after the letter from the lawyer arrived. But you didn't test me. Why not?"

"I suppose," Matthew said evenly, "that I didn't see the point in torturing either of us. You would have found out tonight that I am now your father's heir. So, why test you on whether you could bear to be courted by a middle class lawyer when I suspect it was the only thing that made you hesitate?"

She nodded, smiling. "For what it's worth, if you'd asked me, to say whether I was willing to be courted by a lawyer, the answer would have been yes." She blushed. "My heart knew what it wanted the second I was told on the Carpathia that you were still alive. To be honest, I think I knew even as I was dashing your heart to pieces in the lounge. I felt quite terrible, just so you know, telling you I needed to try with Patrick, when every bone in my body was telling me how awful it would be with him, and how I was stabbing you in the heart."

"It wasn't that terrible," Matthew reassured. "That we're standing here now takes away a great deal of the sting." He moved to the next awkward issue. "Out of respect, I can't call on you until the mourning period for the family has passed."

"Of course," Mary agreed easily. "I didn't love Patrick as a fiancé but he was family and so was Cousin James, and Papa hides it well but he was close to James. And with your new place in our family, I am quite certain you'll be invited to the Abbey often. But yes, we will need to be circumspect." Then her eyes twinkled mischievously. "But we're quite alone now, so perhaps it's time we kissed? To where you'll remember it?"

"We kissed?" He marveled at the very idea of forgetting something so amazing.

"I kissed you on the forehead after you told me how much you loved me." Mary grinned at him. "You were still quite frozen but I think you're due a kiss you can remember."

He leaned in and kissed her, and all the concerns his sudden inheritance had brought vanished in an instant. It amazed him, how such a terrible event had led to his finding the love of his life.


End file.
